


Unconditional

by heyselene



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Adoption, Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Bad Parent John Winchester, Bathing/Washing, Castiel is Not Okay (Supernatural), Castiel is Protective of Dean Winchester, Chicago (City), Cuddling & Snuggling, Dean Winchester Has Abandonment Issues, Dean Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Depressed Dean Winchester, Depression, Diet, Dom Castiel (Supernatural), Dom Castiel/Sub Dean Winchester, Drinking, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, EuropePackerExtraordinaire!Cas, F/M, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Fluff, Food Issues, Foster Care, Gentle Dom Castiel (Supernatural), GrillMaster!Dean, Hand Jobs, Homophobic John Winchester, Italy, Job Loss, John Winchester Being an Asshole, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, Love Confessions, Lube, M/M, Minor Becky Rosen/Chuck Shurley, Miscommunication, Mutual Masturbation, Overworking, Petty Theft, Phone Sex, Praise Kink, Restraints, Sam Winchester is So Done, Scratching, Sick Dean Winchester, Sickfic, Sorry again, Sub Dean, Sub Dean Winchester, Therapy, Travel, but not really, unemployment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:35:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 42,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25815910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyselene/pseuds/heyselene
Summary: "I think I should probably go," Dean says softly, his eyes raw."I think I should probably take care of you, sweetheart," Cas counters firmly.—In which Castiel goes to Italy for fourteen weeks for work and shit hits the fan for Dean.Feat. slow slide into depression, long talks about feelings, established husbands, extremely detailed sex, adoption, and therapy.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester, Sam's relationships are background
Comments: 51
Kudos: 333





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is my baby! I always try to write the stuff that I would want to read, so here it is… Apparently, I like intense hurt/comfort and detailed sex scenes. Thank you for taking the time to read it—my heart is in here somewhere. I think the original idea came out of a perceived need for a fic where Dean gets dragged through the mud AND gets a hefty dose of comfort. Sometimes I feel like he isn’t given enough. At the same time, I want Cas to respond somewhat realistically— things get tough sometimes. 
> 
> FYI, the timeline is fucked and this is a domestic life AU. No supernatural creatures. ALSO the POV is so strange I have no idea what I am doing but when I read it, it makes sense. So. 
> 
> IMPORTANT: I actually have quite a few disclaimers/warnings. I do not have depression, nor do I attend therapy sessions, I have never tried or looked into adopting a child. I have never been arrested. I don’t work in something MIS related. If things seem off, it is because my understandings or minor research are incorrect.
> 
> I again wrote John as abusive (physically and verbally). Dean and Cas both discuss mental health issues. Also—they are doing some kinky shit in bed. At one point, Cas scratches Dean and it draws some blood (but it’s mostly an accident and fully consensual).  
> Please take care of yourselves if these are topics you are uncertain about, and message me/comment if you are curious about the content prior to reading! Your safety is more important than any fanfiction :)

"So, I got an offer today," Cas says casually, after swallowing a bite of spaghetti.

Dean perks up, "Oh yeah! What for?"

Cas forks up another bite of noodles and says, "Well, it’s a short-term position to work with a big warehouse client. They're trying to integrate their entry systems internationally."

"That's awesome," Dean tells his husband, shoveling his own food down.

"But that means its abroad, in Italy," Cas tells him.

Dean frowns, "That sucks Cas. I'm sorry it won't work out."

Cas smiles lightly, "It could, actually."

Dean squints, "What, are you gonna Skype the whole time?"

Cas laughs now, setting his fork down, "No. They offered me the whole account if I can get it running. It would be three months, but potentially a double to my salary."

Dean's mouth hangs open at the thought of Cas' salary doubling. It is not as though Cas really needs it to— they're both comfortable. 

Their house is already too big for the two of them, they aren't even renting anymore. They go out to dinner whenever they want, and they spend frankly an alarming amount on sex toys. Dean knows money would be good, but... three months without Cas?

Hellish.

"That's— that's amazing Cas. Three months though," Dean says, nervously.

Cas looks upset and gives Dean a sad smile, "I know. It’s a long time. But think of how much it would pay off. I mean, Dean. This means college funds."

When Dean looks up at Cas from his plate, Cas is grinning.

College funds.

Dean and Cas had agreed: no adoption until they had enough money to provide college funds for their kids.

Dean had been without any financial help when he went to college (and it was community college, at that), so this had seemed reasonable. It had been mostly Cas' suggestion though; he was the planner of the two of them. Each detail carefully sorted.

Dean knew that Cas truly had no qualms with the idea of children though. He had seen the search for adoption agencies on their home computer later that week, as well as searches for parenting handbooks.

Plus, one of Dean's favorite sights was watching Cas play with Abby, who was their neighbors' kid. Cas was always so lit up, with that gummy smile and deadpan humor that seemed to get him in kid's good-graces in an instant. Dean couldn't even imagine how it would feel to have himself, Cas, and a couple of kids and call it a _family_.

So, Dean was ready to fill out adoption papers whenever, but Cas was steadfast on the college fund thing.

In all honesty, Dean had hoped his new job at SynCorp the last year would have been enough for Cas to be ready, but unfortunately, he wasn't making nearly as much as Cas did.

That hurt a little. Dean knew Cas loved him, but Dean's livelihood in this nice house, with their eating out and fancy hobbies was most definitely supported by Castiel's income.

"Okay," Dean finds himself saying to Cas, "Yeah. Three months. What's that, ten weeks?"

"Fourteen," Cas winces.

Dean nods slowly, "But it would be worth it."

Cas looks relieved, "I really think it would be."

Dean grins at him, "Then I guess you're going to Italy, Angel."

—

That night, Dean lets Cas order him to his knees and blindfold him, before choking Dean with his dick. Then, Cas gets Dean to fuck him and breathes praises into Dean's ears. Dean comes so hard he swears he sees stars.

It's later in the bathtub, when Cas is rubbing his shoulders and helping him come down, that Dean questions the distance again.

"You'll call, right?" Dean asks, his post-sex haze and submissive vulnerability making it harder for him to have a filter.

Castiel almost laughs until he sees Dean's insecure expression.

Cas grabs Dean's chin gently with his fingers and forces Dean to meet his eyes, "Dean Winchester. Sometimes I wonder what goes on in that head of yours. Of course, I will call. And I will text. Daily. Just because I am going away for a few months does not change that I am your husband, and I adore you. Unconditional, remember?"

Dean chews his lips and blushes a pretty red, before snuggling into Cas' neck and whispering, "Okay. Thanks."

—

It hits Dean that Cas is really leaving as Castiel begins to pack. He's got their two big suitcases, which doesn't seem like enough to Dean, but Cas refuses to take any more. Cas claims the clothing options are better in Italy anyways. He’s meticulous about what he’s taking, planning the exact number of times he’ll need to do laundry and the specific outfits he’ll need for different types of meetings.

Cas is basically emptying out their closet into the bags.

Dean remembers them moving their things into the closet.

Dean and Cas had bought the house on Sunnyside Avenue in the Ravenswood neighborhood of Chicago about five years ago. Previously, they had been renting a shared two-bedroom in Lakeview. Dean and Cas had actually been roommates.

Dean had been in year two of community college when his four years younger little brother Sam had gotten a scholarship to Stanford and taken off for California. Sam simply refused to take more than a few hundred dollars for groceries from Dean, claiming he already had an on-campus job, so frankly, Dean had fewer expenses than normal. It sucked that he was paying rent for two when only he lived in the place than he and Sammy had been renting since Dean had become Sam's legal guardian. 

So, Dean put out an ad on Craigslist looking for someone to move in.

Castiel had applied— he was coming to Chicago for a two-year graduate program at the University of Chicago, and money was tight, seeing as he had spent the last few years with the peace core. The guy had rent money though, so Dean had set up a time for the two of them to grab lunch.

Castiel had shown up to lunch, sex-haired and tan, and halfway through, Dean found himself asking, "Would you... want to get dinner sometime?"

Cas had simply smiled, "As long as that doesn't interfere with the fact that I would like to be your roommate too."

Two months in, they stopped using the second bedroom, and simply stored extra shit in there. It was nice too because when Sam came to visit, he had somewhere to crash that wasn't a couch.

Cas has always said that Dean is the best decision he has ever made. The most impulsive, but the best.

Cas and Dean graduated around the same time, Cas with a four year degree and a master's and work experience, and Dean from a community college. 

But Castiel had never looked down on Dean, because frankly, Castiel's parents had paid for his undergraduate in completion, and helped with his graduate degree as well. It took until after they graduated for Cas to stop receiving financial help from his parents. 

Becky and Chuck _adored_ Dean, which made Dean feel all fuzzy inside.

Plus, Castiel had learned, albeit slowly, about Dean and Sam's childhood. The reason which Dean had been forced to get a GED instead of completing his time at high-school with Sam. Cas still doesn’t know everything about John’s parenting methods, but Dean often thinks it’s better this way. Castiel admitted to quietly hating John Winchester for making Dean grow up quicker than he should have, but he also explained his awareness that the situation John left Dean in has resulted in Castiel and Dean meeting. 

When they were looking for a new place, Dean insisted that he had to help because they had separate finances, and it was ridiculous for Cas to pay for the whole place that they both were going to live in. Cas had listened, and the next week, he had proposed to Dean on the Chicago riverwalk. Cheesy, Dean will admit, but at least Cas didn't do it on a boat.

Finances pooled, they had settled on the little blue place on West Sunnyside Avenue, with the ash tree out front sitting above the sidewalk, and the parking garage in the back for Dean's Impala. Luckily, they were about a twelve-minute walk from the elevated train, so Dean didn't have to brave the messy city streets with his darling car.

"They're called bumpers for a reason," Castiel would say.

In the next few years, Cas gets a big wig job downtown in the Loop, and Dean finds a position in a start-up in the west loop. Things are good. So good. 

Sammy tells Dean he's in a poly relationship, and Dean, while confused about how that's different than a threesome, is supportive.

Sam brings Jess and Gabe to Dean's wedding. Dean realizes how natural Sam looks with the two of them and recognizes that these are the people Sammy will be with for the rest of his life.

Dean and Cas get hitched— Becky and Chuck come, and Becky calls Dean her "Son", which makes Dean cry for a while.

Dean and Cas get more adventurous in the bedroom, Cas sitting him down to talk about the fact that Dean likes to be smacked and pinched during sex, and how Cas thinks it could be really hot for the both of them if they explored BDSM. 

Needless to say, Dean is on board with that one.

So now, Dean is kind of melancholy to watch Cas pack up his blue striped tie— it’s the one he wore to their rehearsal dinner (and the one he tied Dean up with for a scene a couple of weeks ago). He is glum because soon he will be the only one living in the blue house on Sunnyside. 

Dean is lying on their bed on his stomach, his chin in his hands observing his husband.

"I think I am going to be in suits most of the time. Italy will be hot, but I assume their warehouses will be air-conditioned," Cas rambles.

"Sucks that you can't see the beauty of Italy while you're there," Dean responds.

"That's not the point of the trip, Dean," Cas reminds him, trying to decide between two equally boring pinstripe button-ups.

Dean hums in agreement, "The blue one, definitely."

Cas smiles at him and folds the blue one to go in his suitcase, "Besides, I would only want to spend time taking in the beauty of Italy if you can come with me."

"I wish I could," Dean sighs, "But I've got to stay with SynCorp. I'm still so new, I doubt they'll let me have much time off."

"Of course. I'm not sure we would have much time to ourselves anyways. My itinerary is pretty hefty," Cas says.

Dean hops to his feet, " _Hefty,_ huh? You always say the damnedest things."

Dean gets up in Cas' personal space and slings his arms around his back for a hug.

Cas stills his movements and turns around in Dean's arms, catching Dean's lips in the sweetest kiss. He lets his hands wander to Dean's ass squeezing in question.

Dean lifts one of his legs to wrap it up around Cas' waist, effectively giving Cas the answer needs to hoist Dean up so he's straddling Cas, with Cas' hands supporting his ass.

Dean breaks the kiss reluctantly and Cas uses the opening to get his lips on Dean's jaw.

"You got time for a break, Europe-packer-extraordinaire?" Dean teases.

Cas makes a little growly noise against Dean's neck and bites it, backing them towards their bed.

"I'll take that as a yes," Dean gasps, using his hand to pull Cas' jaw left so they can resume kissing.

Cas lays Dean down back, letting his whole-body rest on top of him with that delicious warm weight that Dean will never get over. Everything with Cas is so good because it's Cas.

Dean keeps his knees up around Cas, effectively forcing him to stay close to Dean. Cas gets those big rough hands under Dean's shirt and slides them up over Dean's sides, peeling the cotton t-shirt with them.

Cas kisses his chest gently, like they've got all sorts of time, and this isn't one of their last days to see each-other for fourteen weeks. He lets his fingers touch and roam over Dean, feeling the way his skin rises and falls, the sturdiness of his muscles, and the slight squish of his stomach. 

Dean hates that bit of pudge on his stomach, but nothing he has ever done has kept it off, and he has no intention of changing his eating habits. Dean loves food.

Cas, for whatever reason, loves the softness of Dean at the middle, the little jiggle of his thighs.

Cas kisses down his chest, holding his hips down and carefully following with his fingers to remind Dean that he's more than interested in mapping him out.

Cas ends up with his lips wrapped around the tip of Dean's cock, his hands toying lower to play and tug in a way that's just shy of painful. Dean's boxers are pulled beneath his balls, the thick band of the fabric creating a delicious pressure. Dean shakes slightly under the attention, letting his thighs shift around Cas' face and his hands drift to thumb at Cas' cheeks. 

Cas pulls away with slick-spit lips and a little wild look that he sometimes has during sex.

Sex-enthused Cas often reminds Dean a lot of pot-enthused Cas from college.

He licks his lips and considers the taste before hauling Dean's hips forward and looking up at Dean with those glittering eyes. 

"Dean, sit on my face."

Dean will forever wonder how something that sounds so much like porn dialogue can become poetry on his husband's lips. 

Dean wordlessly shifts up so his weight is pressing him down into Cas' mouth. Cas uses both hands to hold Dean up and press forward, his stubble scratching deliciously. He licks and sucks into and around Dean's hole like it's what he's meant to be doing. He pauses to spit, slicking his hole with heat. 

It had taken Dean a while to become okay with this. He doesn't _love_ being balanced with his weight on Cas. He still sometimes trembles, his gaze on the way his thighs jiggle. 

His dick softens a bit at the realization that he is pretty heavy, and that Cas is having to work to keep him propped up. 

Cas notices Dean's discomfort instantly— this particular position is always hit or miss with them. Castiel adores how it connects them intimately and knows it can often end in Dean whining and begging. But this isn't one of those times, this is a time where it's just a little too much for Dean to handle: he's already raw with the idea that Cas is going to be leaving tomorrow. 

Cas kisses up Dean's body, sinking down on him with a thigh pressed between his legs. He hums sweetly, recognizes and pushes past Dean's insecurities, kissing him deep like it's love. 

He grinds against Dean, mouthing at his ear and breathing out a question, "Would you be comfortable with me fucking you?"

Dean nods shyly.

Cas grins, reaching for the lube and sitting up some, "Would you prefer to prep yourself?"

In all honesty? Yes. Dean will do it quicker, less time for Cas to draw it out, to see Dean writhing on his fingers and to praise him. Quicker to when they get to fuck. 

At the same time? Cas' _fingers._

So Dean shakes his head no. 

Cas' smile widens and he presses a kiss to Dean's nose as he slicks a couple of fingers. Dean's legs are folded, feet on the bed with Cas lounging against him. Cas presses in slowly, wiggling and testing the give. It's been maybe 24 hours since Dean has been fucked?

Cas locks eyes with Dean, keeping his gaze steady to gauge how it feels as he slides his fingers in pointed twists and strokes. Dean purposefully lets his face mirror how it feels, making it clear when Cas has found the right spots. 

Dean gets his fingers onto Cas' nipples, thumbing them. Once they have peaked, he lets himself pinch gently. Cas moans and his cock twitches against Dean's stomach. 

Dean tugs outwards and Cas leans towards him, "Mmm, good boy. Harder."

Dean pinches down with a bit of fingernail. 

Cas moans breathily, his fourth finger slipping into Dean to meet a third that has been working him open. 

Cas pulls back, tugging himself free of Dean's grip and grabbing at Dean's hips to get him, feet in the air, back flat and cock lazily resting against his stomach. Cas grips his dick, grabbing one of Dean's ankles and looking down at him as though he's some sort of gay offering. 

Dean lets his eyes become vulnerable. He can feel the bit of hurt that clouds his lust for a moment. This is the last time for a while. 

Cas bites his lip at this expression on Dean, "I love you, more than anything you know."

Dean swallows, head turning sideways and nodding. 

"Look at me," Cas commands, unwilling to move his hands. 

Dean looks. 

"I fucking love you. You are _the best thing_ that could have ever happened to me."

Dean's lower lip trembles, and he nods again. 

Cas taps his dick against Dean's hole a couple of times, then gives a few little slides against his cheeks, where he's wet and soft. 

Cas uses his fist to ease his dick in, slowly giving Dean time to adjust.

Dean scoots down into Cas' cock, effectively taking him down without hesitation. Four fingers were really probably more than Dean needed. Cas huffs at the feeling of Dean taking control, his now free hand flying to Dean's hip to press it to the bed. 

With Dean effectively immobilized, Cas lets his hips punch forward. His dick is already pretty deep, so the movement just slaps their skin together and stuffs Dean fuller. 

Cas' grip on Dean's ankle is deathly tight. Cas eases in and out and in a dozen times, letting them both relish in the feeling of each other. 

Then he leans forwards, drops Dean's ankle, arches his back in the sexiest of ways and sinks down so they're chest to chest— Dean's nose only an inch from Cas', their breath mingling. 

Cas pistons his hips, lifting out and pushing in, their stomachs and hips and balls coming together wetly. 

The hot press of skin, the proximity to Cas' eyes, the way he kisses Dean— it's exactly what Dean needs at the moment. 

How is it Cas always seems to know exactly what Dean needs? 

Cas gathers both of Dean's hands, threading their fingers and pressing his arms into the bed beside them. Dean can do nothing but take it as Cas sets a languid pace, his thrusts never coming all the way out. 

Dean lets a couple of overwhelmed tears flow. 

"God, you're gorgeous. My gorgeous Dean."

"Fuck," Dean huffs. 

"Look at you, sweet boy," Cas murmurs, watching Dean fall apart. 

"Mmm feels so good," Dean whimpers, "Don't stop. Please, don't—"

"What makes you think I have any intention of stopping?" Cas growls in his ear, using the weight of his body to shove in a particularly rough thrust. 

It doesn't take Dean too long today. He's on edge with emotion, he's pinned down under his hot-as-hell husband. It's really no surprise when he's asking, "Oh fuck. Cas I'm going to come, oh god, can I come?"

"Without a hand?" Cas asks, a little surprised, his eyes dark. 

Dean chokes, "I can, fuck I can. But it would feel so good, so good if you would—,"Dean's voice breaks. 

"If I what?" Cas asks, peering down at him with a quirk to his lips. 

Dean whimpers, "If you fist me. God, if you jerk me off," his voice is small. 

Cas nods in agreement, letting go of one of Dean's hands to collect some lube from where they're joined. He wraps his fingers around Dean's cock where it's thick and fat with arousal against his stomach. 

A few more punches of Cas' cock to Dean's prostate has him coming in between their stomachs. Cas' hand in countermotion with the thrusts is what prolongs the orgasm into mind-blanking. 

Dean squirms and cries and begs, all the things that send Cas pitching towards an orgasm. 

It only takes a couple of minutes more, Cas watches as Dean's body becomes fucked-out lazy, his arms relaxing and his tummy sprayed with come. Dean gets his hands free and lets his fingers slide through the mess, grabbing some up and sucking it off his fingers before offering some more to Cas. 

Cas sucks Dean's come off his fingertips without a single beat of hesitation, pressing their sticky chests together as the action has him hurtling to the edge. He comes, thrusting into Dean and growling out against his neck, teeth biting down a little. 

Cas jerks and fucks, his body exhausted as Dean now. 

He sits up, pulling back and slowly easing out of Dean. Cas' free hand gets to Dean's chin and forces him to look down to where Cas' come is slicking Dean's hole. Cas uses his hand to guide his dick in the mess, smearing it some, and then guiding his spent cock back into Dean one more time. 

"God, _Dean,_ you are the most beautiful man," Cas says, looking him up and down with awe. 

Dean blushes bright red. 

Cas kisses him chastely, wiping them both down with a t-shirt that's on the bed. Cas rolls to the left and drags Dean so they're tucked chest to chest. Dean buries his face in Cas' neck. 

Cas kisses his forehead, and Dean licks a stripe on Cas throat where it's salty with sweat— an afterthought. 

It's several long minutes, and Dean's almost asleep when Cas speaks, 

"Are you ok?" He asks, his voice fond and quiet. 

Dean chuckles, "All good. That wasn't even a scene."

Cas nuzzles his hair and scolds, "Still a sexual encounter? Still a reason to communicate."

Dean laughs at this too, kissing Cas' neck before saying, "I'm all good. I fucking love you."

"I love you too, Dean."

—

The next morning is the last time they will lay in bed in each other's comfort for a long while.

Dean knows this, and selfishly he pretends to be asleep on Cas' chest for a while longer to make sure he gets as much of it as he can.

Eventually, Cas gets up to get coffee, and Dean grumbles and follows him into their kitchen. Dean makes eggs and toast and Cas rubs at his shoulders while he watches the pan.

Cas finishes packing up in the late morning and gets everything together into the afternoon. He's got copies of his passport, some money they had exchanged into euros, and one of those weird neck pillows for flying.

Cas needs to hop in an Uber at 3 pm to make sure he makes it to the flight on time. He's pretty flustered with getting ready to go, so he isn't focused on Dean, which Dean understands. 

Dean is slowly starting to feel like this is a very bad idea. Cas' fluster is making his stomach clench with anxiety and all he really wants is to pull Castiel back into bed and never let him leave.

Cas hails the uber, looks over his things, and then turns to Dean.

Cas' eyes, once unfocused and serious are soft on Dean's face.

"I can't believe this is happening," He says, all low and gravely.

"Me neither," Dean agrees.

"I am going to miss you."

Dean just nods.

"I'll text or call every day," Cas says, and it's pleading, so Dean knows there's still some guilt that Cas is harboring about the whole situation.

This thought softens Dean a little— he knows that Castiel is doing all of this for the both of them. For their happiness, for their _family_.

He grabs Cas' cheeks between in palms, squishing his face and giving him the softest smile he can muster, "I know you will. Don't worry, it's all going to be fine."

Cas looks so relieved at Dean's words that Dean wonders if it's bad that it was partially a lie.

"I love you, Dean," Cas tells him.

"I love you too. Now, go get 'em!"

If Dean gets teary-eyed when he watches the uber pull away, no one will have to know.

-

The first two weeks without Cas actually go fine.

They text a lot. Cas sends pictures of the Italian countryside from the train he takes to Bologna. He sends Dean quite a few food pictures, inquiring whether Dean knows how to make these dishes for them at home. He sends a selfie on a famous bridge and a story about miscommunication with an elderly woman.

Dean hauls ass at work during the day, and then works more at night to avoid thinking about the fact that he's alone. He's doing great at work, one of his superiors told him he had an obvious depth of thinking and detail. Usually, Dean is pressed to reach week-end checkpoints on a few of his projects, but now he's sort of done with his checkpoints by Wednesday and has another project for Friday. 

He doesn't really leave the house much. He goes grocery shopping at the Jewel, but he finds himself eating meals out when he's on his way home or into the office. It's easy to stop for a coffee and bagel or a sandwich when he doesn't have anyone to cook for. Dean goes on a run once, but he isn't feeling much like exercise, and the coolest it has gotten in Chicago in June is around 67 degrees. 

Castiel FaceTimes him every few days. Cas always looks exhausted but is excited about his job anyways. Cas says the project is going exceptionally well— the people at the Italian company are relatively young, tech-savvy, and have already kept their data well organized. It sounds like it's Castiel's dream situation when it comes to data integration. Whatever that means.

"How are you feeling?" Cas asks, one Thursday afternoon when Dean can't help but call Cas over and over again out of boredom.

"I'm fine. It's good to see your face," Dean admits.

"You seem bored," Cas presses.

"I'm all good. I've got more work I could do anyways," Dean tells his husband.

"Have you called Sam recently?" Cas asks.

Dean laughs, he had just gotten off the phone with Sammy, "Yeah, we just chatted."

"That's good to hear. You just seem... restless."

Dean thinks about that— maybe he is somewhat restless. Dean is a people person for the most part and he's been feeling pretty lonely. It's a lot harder to make friends when you're finally adult and married. He feels weird about going out to the bar to try to meet people, and his job is so new that he barely is acquainted with his coworkers. He has a few friends from community college, but Charlie and Gilda have a new baby, and Garth got a job out in Ohio.

"I guess I am a bit restless, but its nothing bad. Just miss you," Dean says sweetly.

Cas hums at this, not fully paying attention to their call. Dean can see the glow of his laptop as Cas' attention is divided, "Perhaps you should get out and get some exercise."

Dean sorta squints at this suggestion. What the hell does that mean? Dean has never been big on exercise, "I dunno Cas, I don't really want to."

Cas is still doing something on his computer as he answers Dean, "Exercise is great for relieving extra energy and staying in shape. I've been trying to get up earlier lately to hit the gym in my complex."

"You have a gym?" Dean asks, not knowing what else to say. This conversation is sitting very weird in his stomach.

"Yes, with treadmills and weights and ellipticals."

"Oh."

"Plus, I'm trying to keep off all of the weight I'm probably gaining from eating out all the time. I miss it when you cook," Cas is paying attention now, having closed his computer. 

Dean smiles, feeling a bit better, "I miss cooking for you."

Castiel grins back.

—

Their conversation will not leave Dean's head for some reason. He doesn't want to think about everything that his brain is trying to convince him is layered in Cas' words, but he does anyways.

Should Dean be exercising more? He knows he hasn't gotten out much lately, but he really hates running when it's this hot... He thinks for a moment that maybe he has put on some weight since Cas left.

Dean gets up and carefully lifts his shirt to take a look at his belly. It doesn't _seem_ any different, still a little soft where Cas is fit and muscular.

He pokes at his tummy gently and feels something like nausea start to swell up in him.

Dean thinks to himself that the last thing he wants is to get any pudgier. Castiel is hitting the gym and working harder than ever. He's got to be exhausted by all the new things around him and this big project and he still has the time to stay fit whereas Dean is letting it slide.

 _You always let the important things slide_ , Dean's mind reminds him. 

Dean is in practice at shutting thoughts like these down, so he ignores the inkling but grabs a pair of tennis shoes to go for a jog.

—

The next day at work is fucking long. 

Dean is running late because of train delays and he is sweating on his way into work. He doesn't stop for his coffee and breakfast so his stomach is grumbling by 11 am. 

Some idiot in his project group forgot to save their data on Thursday, so everything they had prepared yesterday was lost to the files. Dean has to make a call on whether they should spend the time trying to recover the info, or just get to work on recreating it. Worse, some of the data from yesterday was directly derived from a conference call they had planned _months_ in advance. And, to top it all off, the blame sort of falls on Dean because he is the project manager.

Dean is too busy sending out emails to see if anyone got video footage of their call yesterday and requesting info from the company they had been working with to stop to eat lunch.

By the time he's caught a northbound train, he's exhausted. He's achy from trying to run yesterday after not being in the habit for a long time and he just wants to collapse into bed.

Dean walks home from the train with his shirt unbuttoned to his undershirt because it is so hot out. He considers stopping for takeout, but reminds himself that he's trying to watch his weight and he's got food at home. Thank god its Friday.

Dean settles on the couch in their dark, empty apartment and lets a few tears fall.

Fuck. It had been a long day. 

When Dean eventually makes it to the fridge, it’s pretty bare. He's been forgetting to grocery shop because he hasn't been cooking. He has frozen meals, but the idea of putting something processed and greasy in his body sounds like hell.

He settles on a can of creamy vegetable soup that they have in the pantry. He heats it absentmindedly on the stove and sips at a glass of bourbon at while he waits.

By the time he's eaten his soup, Dean is pretty warm and tingly. Starting with the bourbon on an empty stomach has him feeling better than he has all day, and the soup in his belly is exactly what he needed.

He strips, takes a lukewarm shower, then gets in their bed and shoots Cas a text.

 _Are you busy_? - 12:15 am

Cas responds by FaceTiming him.

Cas is in his PJs still, shuffling around his kitchen and smiling at Dean, "Hello Dean."

"Heya Cas," Dean feels warm just seeing his husband all domestic and getting ready for his day. Its 7 am in Italy. His heart aches with the fact that they aren't getting ready together.

"You look cozy. In bed so early?" Cas asks.

"Its past midnight," Dean says, trying not to let how tired he is show, "Had a few drinks."

Cas lets out a fond chuckle, "I can sort of tell. That's right, I keep forgetting the exact time difference."

Dean hums and turns on his side so he can squish his face in the pillow and watch Cas at the same time.

"What's got you drinking tonight sweetheart?" Cas asks, getting his cup of coffee in hand and walking with his phone.

"Long day," Dean says, yawning.

"Mmm. Time to relax now?" Cas asks.

"Yeah," Dean agrees, he lets the sheet slip down so Cas can tell he's shirtless in their bed.

"I miss having you in bed," Cas reveals, his voice wistful.

"Me too," Dean agrees, scratching his fingernails absently at his belly.

"I miss how you smell. The way you taste too," Cas is watching him with those intense eyes.

Dean feels some heat start to pool in his gut. He misses the way Cas tastes too. In more ways than one. His lips, his sweat, his come.

"Miss how you get all wrapped around me when we sleep. Miss waking up to you sucking my dick. Miss watching how your eyelashes flutter and your ass — damn I miss your ass," Cas is rambling, making his way to curl back up in his own bed.

Its Saturday morning where Cas is and Friday night for Dean. Neither of them have anywhere to be, so Dean doesn't feel the slightest bit guilty when he lets out a little moan for Cas to hear.

"God, the way you _sound_ ," Cas growls.

"You're one to talk," Dean argues, "Your voice was _made_ for phone sex."

"Is that what we're doing?" Cas asks, curious.

Dean has got his fingers just touching his dick lazily, so yeah. He hopes this is phone sex. He makes a noise of ascent.

"Well I'd better take off these pants then," Cas said, his voice lighter with humor.

"Please," Dean whispers, his voice less playful than Cas'.

"Are you touching yourself, Dean?" Cas asks him.

"Yes," But then Dean pauses, "Is that okay?" 

Castiel knows Dean well enough to know that this is Dean leaning into their power dynamic. That Dean will come harder if he has permission and if Cas takes the reigns a little. That giving up control in bed is the one place where Dean can be vulnerable without getting itchy about it.

"Of course, baby. Touch yourself for me," Cas slides into it without hesitation.

So, Dean does, letting himself get his fist around his dick.

"Good, that’s good," Cas says breathily. It’s been a while since either of them have had any sort of human interaction regarding sex. Five weeks, in fact. 

"Feels good," Dean comments, but it’s slurred with pleasure and alcohol.

"It should," Cas agrees, "It’s always so much better after a while— like the time after your trip with Sam?"

Dean knows what Cas is talking about. Last year he took a week-long vacation up to see Uncle Bobby with Sam, and by the time he was home, Cas practically dragged him in the house to suck his dick in the front entry way.

"Felt so good to have you near me, after a long week. You were all warm and tired and pliant. Got you against the wall and went down until I was as far as I could go and just listened to those noises you made, god, Dean, the noises you make," Cas starts.

Dean makes one of the said noises in agreement, his hand rubbing a little faster than comfortable.

"You were so sweet, pulling back to stop me from choking, being so careful with me. Couldn't stand to see yourself the only one coming— you yanked me up and got us pressed together and practically bit down on my neck."

Dean remembers this time vividly, "Wanted to feel like you're mine," he admits.

"I am yours," Cas agrees.

Dean's chest swells and he sucks in surprised gasp like he hadn't been expecting those words. He should be— he's fucking married to Castiel. For whatever reason, both Dean and Castiel decide to let that one slide.

"Yeah, all yours."

Dean has to bite his lip from making noise, but Cas saves him as he continues,

"After you'd made that clear, we made it as far as the couch to get the lube. Glad we keep stashed. I got you on your stomach with your perfect ass on display for me. Got you all opened up wet and warm with lube. Had you fucking back on my fingers and forward into the couch cushions, god, I'm pretty sure we ruined that cushion with lube."

"We did," Dean agrees, "I liked that one too."

"So worth it," Cas says.

Dean hums, "Did you get your pants off?"

"Yeah. Got some lube too. I'm sorta teasing though. Goin' slow," Cas informs him.

Dean makes a soft noise like a whimper at the thought of Cas' big hands on his gorgeous cock.

"Do you have lube out, Dean?" Cas implores.

That makes Dean slow down, "Uh, no. Not right now."

This makes Cas tut, "You're going to be needing that. Be my good boy and find some?"

Dean huffs at this, he's pretty comfortable. He doesn't immediately get up to move.

"Is that some attitude I'm getting?" Cas asks.

"Maybe," Dean grumbles. He's pretty tired and out of it, but he's horny and Cas isn't there and he just wants to get off and crash to sleep.

"Dean," Cas says his tone warning, "I am not going to be very happy with you if you don't get some lubricant. Or at least show me you're using adequate spit."

Dean's submissive-people-pleaser instincts kick in and he sits up to cross the room to get lube out of their closet.

Everything spins like bourbon on a mostly empty stomach, and Dean has to pause to collect himself.

"Dean," Cas snaps, impatient.

Cas, of course, thinks Dean is simply hesitating because he is being bratty. He can't see from this angle that Dean is dizzy or hazy. He doesn't know that Dean doesn't really want to test him right now. He isn't aware of how drunk Dean is, or how exhausted Dean is. Cas doesn't know because he's thousands of miles away and he can't take care of Dean in the same ways he normally would. 

But his tone makes Dean get that guilty feeling in his chest, an inkling of the icky-ness that sometimes comes the day after they scene.

"Yes sir. I'm going to get it," Dean says, instead of explaining himself.

He slips off screen, stumbling across the room to the closet. 

Things spin as Dean locates a bottle of personal lubricant and a bath towel to make cleaning things up easier. 

He keeps himself steady back to their bed, but still can tell he's pretty strong.

"Got it," He announces, bouncing back into bed and into the frame, "Sorry sir."

Cas is eyeing him a little funny through the camera, partly ticked, but mostly calculating. He can't decide what's _off_ about Dean, but it's something.

Cas must decide it’s not earth shattering (it's really not), because he responds easily, "Good boy. Get some in your hands."

Dean obeys, slicking up his hands. 

"Touch yourself. Don't go slow. I'll tell you when to come," Cas instructs. 

Dean nods, gripping his dick and settling a natural rhythm, his thighs trembling slightly and his eyes fighting to stay open. 

"Yeah, like that. God, your beautiful. Look good on camera, I’ll bet you look good all spread out for me. Always so fucking hot," Cas moans, obviously jacking himself again too. 

Dean shivers at the praise and bucks his hips into his hands.

"Tell me what you're doing," Cas requests.

Dean looks down to where he has his legs spread haphazardly. He's drunk enough that he's not too insecure about how he's laid out vulnerably. 

"On my back right now," He pants, "Got my knees up so I can reach better."

"Legs spread?" Cas asks, his eyes dark in the camera.

"Yeah," Dean says, "You wanna see?" 

Cas is nodding immediately. Dean feels a little weird about showing things through video chat, but he assumes enough people have phone sex nowadays that it’s not a big deal. He's also feeling pretty uninhibited because of the liquor.

He flips the camera around to show Cas where his hand is jacking his dick between his spread thighs. Its dark in the room, but Cas can probably tell that Dean is on Cas' side of the bed, his feet twisted in their sheets and his thighs scattered with hair.

Cas lets out a groan, "God, fuck Dean, you can't just _look_ like that all the time."

Dean chuckles at this, but it becomes a moan as he starts to shift his hips up into his hand again to put on a show for Cas.

"Yes, help yourself, good boy," Cas encourages. 

Things get kinda mushy after that. Dean continues to jack himself to Cas' moans and praise and the wet sounds behind camera.

Dean gets close to the edge quicker than he usually would with just his hand. It’s been a while since he's felt like jacking off, and it feels weird to do it again without Cas around. They had been in a pretty regular routine of sex and handjobs.

"I-I'm pretty close, Cas," Dean chokes out.

"Me too, me too," Cas agrees, his attention divided. 

"C-can I come? Sir?" Dean asks. He's in the habit of asking early just in case. If he doesn't ask, he'll end up coming without permission and getting in trouble. 

Not that he really minds getting in trouble with Cas, but for now he wants to hear it from Cas' lips.

"Mmm, _yes,_ you can come Dean. Come for me," Cas instructs breathlessly.

After four or five more strokes, wet and rough, Dean comes into his fist and onto his tummy, his head rushing and the spin of it making him pant. He chokes on his moans and the camera catches the image of come smeared on him, so he is sure Cas will be happy.

He keeps fisting his dick as he goes, a little out of it but knowing that he shouldn't stop unless Cas tells him to stop.

He can hear Cas coming too, the way his breathing quickens, and he gets quiet and choked. Cas is always quiet when he's jerking himself off, all controlled and careful.

Dean is starting to get out of the aftershocks, and his fist feels like too much, but he keeps going.

"God, Dean," Cas huffs, coming to a halt to catch his breath.

Dean can't respond other than to gasp out because he's still touching himself. He knows Cas knows, he can see Cas watching the screen greedily, watching Dean tremble and twitch.

"God, you're so beautiful sweetheart," Cas whispers, his eyes full of fondness.

"Pl-please. Can I stop?" Dean's request sounds a bit like he's begging, and his voice is watery with tears.

"Yeah, yeah. Give yourself a moment," Cas says, giving in.

Dean lets go and his hips fall down against the sheets, the tension leaving his body.

"Turn the camera so I can see you," Cas commands.

Dean hums, fumbling with the screen so he can turn it to face view.

Castiel's expression eases at seeing Dean's face calm and sated. Dean knows he probably looks tired and even more relaxed now.

"Good boy," Cas murmurs, looking at him with the love that Dean misses so much, "I miss you too."

Dean hums in agreement.

"You've gotten me off to a good start of the day," Cas informs him.

"Yeah?" Dean asks, "What's on the agenda for today?"

"Not a lot," Cas says, grabbing the sheets to wipe himself clean, "I've got a check-in with Inias and a lunch meeting with the staff of the marketing department. We need to get a plan for internal documents to share with a bunch of their branches to clearly explain the new processes we're using. It'll only work if the employees understand how to use it."

Dean is reminded how intelligent and confident his husband is.

"Sounds like it’s going to be awesome," Dean says, "I'm excited that things are going well."

"Me too," Cas agrees, "But I wish it didn't mean being away from you."

"I do too," Dean agrees quietly, looking away. His face is betraying him by showing how vulnerable their distance has made him.

"Dean," Cas says gently, getting Dean's attention again.

"Yeah?"

"I might actually be able to come home a couple of weeks early. Things are going really well," Cas says.

Dean grins, "Hell yeah!"

Cas nods in agreement, "So I think you should start the search," he adds.

"The search?" 

"Yeah," Cas says, "Start finding an adoption agency near us. Let’s be Dads, Dean."

—


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the low point of the story, I am sorry.

Dean starts the search the next day. Dean has been waiting for this for _ages._ After spending most of his childhood scared shitless of child protective services and shitty foster parents and being split from Sam, Dean is ready. 

Dean wants to get siblings. Get them out of a bad spot and into a better home where they can go to a stable school and ask him stupid kid questions and argue with him without being afraid he'll hit them.

Dean knows he's compensating for his experience with John, but he can't seem to feel like it’s a bad thing. Cas has been nothing but supportive of them adopting older kids.

"It would be nice to have a conversation and ask if they want to come live with us," Cas had mused when they first talked about adoption.

Dean already has some agencies bookmarked and has gone through the ins and outs of how to start the adoption process. He knows they'll need to go through a lot of time-consuming paperwork. He hopes that if he gets the ball rolling while Cas is in Italy that they'll be closer than ever when Cas finally gets home.

Dean fills out three applications that day, agreeing to background checks and putting in Cas and his personal information, address, and incomes.

He gets out and runs again that afternoon. He's so jittery and excited about the future that he doesn't have much of an appetite. He pushes himself to eat an orange once he's out of the shower, and texts Cas a few gooey messages about how excited he is.

Cas sends back a string of goofy emojis displaying his happiness.

—

Dean goes grocery shopping on Sunday. He buys fish, veggies, and fruit. He goes for oats and beans and whole-grain carbs. He needs to get his shit together and start eating right and exercising again. He wants Cas to come home to his perfect husband, his perfect life.

Dean doesn't want Cas to leave again. _Everyone always leaves._

Dean rolls his eyes at this thought. Sometimes he wonders what's wrong with his fucking head.

Dean does a bit of work in the evening to try and get ready for Monday, and he notices their client hasn't responded to his email. This makes a little anxiety rise in his gut, but he forces himself to try and make it a tomorrow problem and cooks some salmon in olive oil.

—

Monday ends up feeling the same way Friday did. 

Dean's client never got back to him, so he sends follow up emails. They were able to get the data mostly back to the way it was, but now its glitching. Dean has looked the code over what feels like a million times and he has no idea what's wrong with it. He wonders if it’s one of the parts his team members provided, but he doesn't want to assume that it’s not his fault, so he continues combining through the lines.

Dean gets an email from his supervisor, Zachariah, who wants to have a meeting the next Friday. Dean responds immediately and agrees. Hopefully it’s a raise with all the shit Dean has had to fit lately. Things seem to be looking up.

—

Dean's "diet" is going good too. He feels like he's getting a little slimmer. He's been eating well for a week and a half now, running every other day, even though it’s exhausting. It feels good to have everything productive and in order. Dean likes having some control to try and forget about how lonely he is.

He gets an email back from one of his applications as he's getting dinner together one night.

_Subject: Winchester/Novak Adoption Application Forms_

Dean clicks on the email so fast.

He reads the first line and then freezes. It's... its his background check attached with a warning.

The agent they've been assigned to is shooting Dean an email to let him know that they may very likely run into trouble getting their applications passed due to Dean's "criminal record".

Dean stares at the email for a long time.

He feels a lot of things all at once. It’s a scary, angry, depressive cocktail of emotions that are making him shake. 

Once he's processed this, he just feels numb.

What the fuck?

It's not like he killed someone. He didn't even have a felony or anything! He didn't hurt anyone! It was fucking petty theft and it was _years_ ago. Literally years.

Dean is realizing quickly that there's no way this is going to stay under wraps if they're going to be able to adopt a kiddo. Dean should have fucking told Cas about this earlier, just explained about the situation.

But Dean _hates_ when Cas looks at him with so much pity— and it wasn't even his brightest moment either. Dean still feels like a fucking idiot for the way it happened all those years ago.

Dean and Sam had been tight on money. In a big way. Dad had been "out of town" or something for months. They were doing fine, really. Dean had been paying rent and utilities with the money he had been making, but they desperately needed a new computer for them to share. Their old one couldn't connect to the internet anymore and that was how Sam could access his school shit. Dean was tired of going to the library every time he needed wireless connection. That was also how Dean applied for fucking work and paid the water bill!

He could have asked Uncle Bobby. He should have sucked it up and asked their grumpy uncle, but he didn't want him to think that Dean couldn't handle it. He didn't want Bobby to know how shit John had been recently, how much Dean had been picking up the slack for him. 

So, Dean went to Walmart and fucking stole a computer. He had the guy get it out of the case, and then made a run for it.

He had ended up in jail with no money to bail himself out, and a court date that kept getting put off. He called Sam and told him to be sure to pay the rent and buy groceries. To call Bobby if there was trouble but not to worry about him, and not to tell anyone where he was.

Dean was _terrified_. If his dad had ever found out about the whole thing Dean would have been dead for sure. And he wasn't kidding, John probably actually would have beat him within an inch of his life.

He sat in the stupid jail and thought about how he could have just gone to the fucking library for another month and saved up for a used computer off Facebook market place. He was stupid. So stupid. But to his credit, Dean had been 17.

Dean got off a month later with a $6000 fine and a criminal record. He went home to find them broke. His job, of course, was gone after he didn't show up. 

It was one of the hardest months of Dean's life. He and Sam still try to avoid talking about it. Dean had been pretty fucked up after a month of anxiety, guilt, and legal proceedings. Sam had been upset and afraid. The two of them had spent a long time just sitting at the dinner table the night Dean had gotten home, just crying and unable to speak.

Dean sure as hell hadn't been rushing to tell Cas about how stupid he had been as a kid. He was already the one who went to community college and made less money. He felt like he was the less impressive of the two— Castiel was so smart and kind and talented, whereas Dean was kind of a shitty guy. From a bad background with no money or experience to his name. It was mostly with Cas' persuasion that Dean had pushed himself to apply at his current job too.

And even if Dean forgets the fact that Dean isn't on Cas' level— now Dean's stupid fucking past mistakes are going to make it hard for them to start their family.

Dean has to put his head between his knees for a few long minutes to get his breathing to even out.

What the hell is Dean supposed to tell Cas?

—

Dean spends the rest of the week sort of half answering Cas' texts. 

He doesn't know how to talk to Cas without feeling like he's hiding shit from him. Dean thinks that Cas will know immediately when he sees his face. Cas will be able to tell that Dean's an idiot— that he's fucked things up.

Dean can't handle having Castiel leave him over the phone.

A big part of him is assuring himself that Cas won't do anything as drastic as leave before they can have a conversation in person. But another part of him knows that Cas would flip out over the fact that Dean had lied. Cas doesn’t do well with curveballs—he is slow to change anything. He always plans, always thinks through every detail. He tends to get anxious when things don’t go exactly the way they should.

Dean had let Cas become committed to him without giving him any warning of all the baggage Dean brought with him. Dean should have been honest.

Dean should have made sure Cas knew what kind of shit he was getting into.

Dean had tried! But Cas had been adamant that Dead did not give himself enough credit. Cas had been pushy and confident in his love, and Dean wasn't stupid enough to not take a good thing when he wanted it.

But now it would come to bite him in the ass; how could Castiel still love him when he had been lying for so long?

—

Dean goes in to speak to Zachariah for their Friday meeting a few days later.

"Ah, Winchester, good," Zachariah says, leaning back in his huge leather desk chair.

"Hello," Dean greets, taking the seat across from him.

"I have unfortunate news, to be very straight with you."

Dean's heart drops.

"We're letting most of your team go. And since you're the manager, I'm gonna have you sit them down and let them know."

Dean's chest loosens with the knowledge that he is still good.

 _For now_ , the voice in the back of his head reminds him.

"Who are we letting go?" Dean inquires, "And why now?"

Zachariah sighs, "You know SynCorp is so new. They may have overestimated how many branches they needed. The market is pretty saturated here in Chicago and they're thinking they could use the salary money from a few hundred employees to make investments to widen the product range that we sell. It’s just good business."

Dean nods in agreement, "Still stinks."

"I agree, but it came from above, I have no say in who they get rid of. I am simply hoping they don't let the two of us go."

Dean makes a face at this.

"So, you'll have to connect with Lars, Kevin and Miriam. By the end of the day, if you wouldn't mind. You can give them this paperwork and send them to my office with any questions you can't answer yourself."

"Yes sir. Sorry you have to lay people off," Dean laments.

"It’s all good Dean. A sign of the times, I think. Thank you for all your hard work."

—

Telling his team they don't have jobs anymore sucks. It really sucks.

Lars and Kevin just look surprised, but Miriam tears up a little bit and breaks Dean's heart. 

The worst is they're all sort of team-mates too. Dean has to sit there and make conversation while they pack their desks and get things in order.

Dean feels like shit, so he calls Cas after work on the walk home.

"Dean? What?" Cas sounds tired and grumpy like Dean just woke him from—oh.

It's like 2 am where Cas is.

"Oh, shit, sorry. I forgot it was so late, I can let you sleep," Dean whispers in a rush.

Cas groans, "No no, you're good. Let's talk for a little bit. I miss you."

"Are you sure? I know you're busy and this is all the time you get to sleep," Dean tests.

"I am sure Dean. Why are you calling?"

"Oh yeah. It’s nothing important, I just—" He sighs, his hand going to palm against the back of his neck, "I had a rough day at work."

Cas hums, "What happened?"

"Had to let some people know that we were letting them go."

"What? Who?" Cas asks, sounding surprised and a little more awake.

"Kevin. Lars and Miriam," Dean explains.

"Why was that _your_ job? Those are people on your team" Cas asks, confused.

"My superior asked me to," Dean says.

"Zach? Why couldn't he do it?" Cas asks, getting heated.

Dean is also starting to become frustrated. Why can't Cas just listen and tell him that shit is going to be ok? Why is he making a big deal about Dean having to do it?

"Cas, it was fine. I'm the team lead, so it’s my job to let people know if the situation changes."

"But you're all at the same pay grade! Zachariah should have had to do that, not you."

"Cas, I literally don't give a fuck that I had to—" Dean begins.

"Well obviously you do, if you're calling me at 2 am!" Cas interrupts.

"I said I was sorry! I told you I'd let you sleep," Dean argued.

"I wanted to get to talk to you though, and if now is the only time that works for you, then I guess I'd better take it!" Cas says.

"I've been working all day," Dean grumbles.

"So have I," Cas agrees, "But I still picked up."

"I'm sorry, okay? It's been a bad week, I've been fucking busy," Dean barks.

"Yeah. I can tell," Cas snorts.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" 

"You've been distant all week! I'm barely getting one word answers and you haven't called since like last Thursday."

"I told you. Things have been rough at work."

"Too rough to text me back? You're my fucking husband!" Cas exclaims. 

"I just don't understand why you're so upset about my job. It has nothing to do with you," Dean huffs.

"I don't want them to treat you like shit. People are assholes to people at the bottom of the corporate ladder— especially in new start ups," Cas tries to explain.

"At the bottom of the ladder? Oh, I'm sorry I'm not the fucking CEO at 28!" Dean's tone is mocking.

"You know that's not what I meant," Cas hisses.

"Then what did you mean?" 

"I just think you don't stand up for yourself to people who try to take advantage of you," Cas tells him.

Dean is kind of floored for a moment. 

"Oh," He says after a pause, "Okay."

"Dean," Cas sighs.

"No, I get it. It's late anyways. I just got home, I need to get some shit done," He lies.

"Dean, I'm sorry, let’s just—"

"It's okay Cas, you're right. I should've said something to Zach," Dean interrupts.

"No, Dean, I think that—"

"Listen, I gotta go, okay? Seriously, this dude is glaring at me because I'm on the phone, I've gotta go," Dean lies again.

"Okay Dean. I love you."

"Yeah Cas. Love you too."

**—**

The weird thing is, things actually get _worse_.

Dean is trying to keep on top of his meals and exercise and work. He has trouble sleeping a few nights in a row because its hot and he decided to leave the air conditioning off so he can open the windows.

He emails a few experts asking about his non-felony criminal record and adoption. Everyone tells him something similar: it's super situational. Sometimes it’s a problem, other times it’s not even a part of the conversation.

They all agree that Dean should talk it through with his partner.

Dean finds himself sniffling on the way to work. He takes a couple of decongestants and hopes its just allergies. He seriously cannot get sick.

Now that his team is down three people, he's hauling ass to meet deadlines. He knows he should probably remind Zach or someone that his team is significantly smaller now, but he becomes determined to do it himself. 

He works extra hard to make sure he's pulling their weight and getting his team to perform more efficiently at their tasks. He feels bad for putting it on his coworkers, so he ends up doing some extra work at night at home to make sure things are getting done.

A few meals get skipped here and there, maybe.

Cas is texting Dean, and Dean can tell that Cas feels really bad.

His texts are sweet and light and apologetic. He sends Dean a paragraph describing the pier near him, and a picture of a few Italian watches he is considering buying Dean. He sends goofy emojis and good morning texts. He texts Dean whenever something reminds him of Dean.

Dean is hesitantly warm back. He meets Cas with all his I-miss-you's and I-love-you's, but he is never the first one to text. 

Dean knows he should make the leap and get things back to normal; he feels like an asshole. But he's not sure he has it in him to apologize when he knows he's already lying to Cas about a bunch of shit. Dean thinks it might just all come out like a tidal wave, and he can't deal with facing the music about the adoption shit.

Plus, he's being stubborn because a big part of him thinks Cas is right.

Dean is a pushover. He let his dad walk over him and Sammy his whole life and look how that ended up— Dean in a low-level position, not even starting his career until he's 28. 

Cas is right about the fact that Dean's position is insignificant too. Cas is in fucking Italy working on a crazy project and making bank and Dean can't even keep his team working well enough that the company deems them valuable.

The thought just makes Dean put in an extra hour of work that evening. He goes for a run afterwards.

By the time he's home and in the shower, his throat is raw, and he has to sit on the edge of their tub. 

Fuck, he must be coming down with something.

Dean takes a PM headache reliever and goes to bed.

—

Cas finally calls two days later. Dean is just waking up on a Saturday. He picks up the phone with a:

"Hello?" like he doesn't already know it's Cas calling.

"Hello Dean," Cas says.

For as much as Dean has been struggling, it is goddamn good to hear Cas' voice.

"Heya Cas," He says gruffly.

There is a pregnant pause.

"I— I wanted to call you to apologize. I've been feeling like shit all week for the way things went down," Cas says, his voice wavering.

Dean can tell Cas is really upset. He almost never falters when they speak. The thought of Cas so upset makes his heart hurt and he has to sit down on their bed to process.

Cas continues when Dean is quiet, "I just care a lot about you. Being away from you is so hard. I want to hold you, to be in the same room and the same time zone as you are."

"Yeah. Me too."

It’s quiet again for a moment.

"Don't get me wrong, I am sorry, I really shouldn't have pushed it. I shouldn't have gotten angry, that was immature of me. I am just worried about you."

"'M okay Cas," Dean murmurs.

Cas sighs, "I know you say that, but it kind of seems like you're not."

That shuts Dean up for a moment. It starts to feel like the room is too hot— like there isn't enough air for him to breathe. He's trembling.

He has to pull the phone away from his face so Cas can't hear the way he is sucking in air. He coughs a few times, still feeling his raw throat and struggling to get in air.

He wipes at his eyes as they well up wet— Cas can't know the shit Dean's been hiding, he'd be _so_ pissed.

"Dean? Are you still there?" 

Dean can hear Cas calling his name where the phone sits on their bed.

"Yeah Cas," He croaks, "I'm still here."

"Are you alright?" Cas rushes out, hearing how Dean's voice sounds.

"Uh, yeah. Mostly."

"Mostly?"

"Just— it was a rough couple of weeks. And I miss you. It’s hard to fight with you," Dean admits.

Cas is quiet for a moment.

"But I'm sorry, and I forgive you, and I just wanna-" Dean continues.

"Do you need me to come home?" Cas asks suddenly.

"What? No!" Dean says, panicking. 

Dean is not going to be the reason Cas loses this deal. He's not going to ruin this incredible opportunity in Italy. Dean is not going to live with that weight on his shoulders. He can't ruin yet another thing for Cas. That would just be icing on Dean's fuck up cake. Part of Dean is procrastinating on Cas coming home too— putting off the inevitable way shit is going to hit the fan.

"Are you sure?" Cas sounds worried.

" _Yes,_ " Dean presses, "Seriously. I am going to be fine. It was just the work stuff." 

"Even if it was just the work stuff, I would come home if you needed me. You know that, right? I'd be there, unconditionally," Cas reminds him.

"Yeah, Cas, I know. Thank you, I appreciate it, but I'm doing fine," Dean deflects. He can't let Cas know that things aren't going as planned.

"Okay. Just know you can tell me," Cas says reluctantly.

"I know. You know I know that Cas," Dean says.

That seems to shut any nerves down on Cas' part, which makes Dean feel a bit better.

Cas asks him about his job, about the house, about the neighbors. Cas tells him about Italy, about new friends and a different pasta he had the other night. 

"Did you ever submit some applications for the adoption stuff?" Cas asks, sounding light and curious.

Dean's heart flies into his throat and he clears it to try and lie as smoothly as he can, "Yeah, actually, I did. I've been meaning to follow up on those. I got computer generated responses, like 'thank you for showing interest', but I haven't really heard anything specific."

"Awesome, maybe we'll hear something soon! Seriously Dean, imagine. In maybe as short as a year, we could be actual parents," Cas sounds so excited.

It tears Dean up inside. He knows he should tell Cas what's going on— now is the perfect time.

The words rise to his lips, _Cas, I'm a criminal_ , or, _Cas, I fucked it up_ , but Dean can't seem to open his mouth and say any of it.

Instead he just agrees with Cas, "That would be amazing."

—

Dean gets home from his Sunday afternoon run and decides to go to their room and do some sit-ups before he hits the shower. His run was actually pretty short— he's feeling pretty shitty. It was hard to get out of bed, but he reminded himself he was gonna need to be perfect if Cas was going to decide to stay.

He does about twenty-five sit-ups before his head starts to spin— jeez, he must be doing worse than he thought.

Dean lays back and catches his breath. Eventually he stands up to strip and head to the bathroom. 

Something catches his eye. 

Its him, in the mirror. Their bedroom has a giant Ikea mirror that Dean can see every detail of himself in. It's not often he looks at himself in this mirror naked— most of the time he changes in their walk-in closet. The bathroom has a half mirror mounted high, so Dean can see his face and upper chest.

But now he observes how slim his body has gotten, how pale he is.

It startles him a little. He doesn't look _bad_ , just different. He doesn't really look like Dean Winchester. 

He's obviously still healthy, nothing to be worried about. Just a bit jarring to notice a change in how he appears physically.

Dean lets his hands slip to where the pudge he had always despised now has become the flat of his stomach. It feels wrong.

Dean's brain is firing off a bunch of different and confusing things. Part of him is proud— obviously this is a result of his healthy eating and careful exercise regimen. Another part of him is screaming alarm— Dean has lost a lot of muscle mass, a lot of bulk. He's never been a guy to want to be lean or skinny, he just wanted to lose some of the lower belly pudge.

Dean shakes his head to try and sort the shit going on in it, pulling his eyes from the mirror and forcing himself to go wash up.

—

Dean is feeling better after that chat with Cas. It feels like Cas still really cares about him— like he'd drop something big to take care of Dean. 

Today feels better. Maybe Cas won't want to leave him when he finds out. Maybe they can make this work. Maybe they could get a divorce and Cas could get custody and Dean could live with them. Maybe Dean and Cas could be friends. Maybe something could work.

He actually gets it up in the shower. He gets one arm against the shower, the other between his legs and does his best to coax an orgasm out of himself. It's weak, though he's thinking of Cas and probably pretty pent up. It feels like more trouble than it's worth, and Dean wonders what's going on with him. He's never had trouble jerking off before. 

He decides to get a bagel on the way to work. Lord knows he could use the extra calories right now. He's been feeling bad still, his chest heavy with a cough and waking from eight hours of sleep still just as tired. And he knows he's getting smaller than he intended.

Dean walks into work feeling better than normal. He's tired, but things are better with Cas, and he's well fed and he thinks today is going to be productive as hell.

He plops at his desks, greets his team and gets to work.

Dean is crazy invested all day. He works quick and smart. He catches errors he was struggling to find in minutes and bangs out a whole three-day project in a couple of hours. He shoots out some emails to potential connections that he's been thinking about— and actually receives an interested response!

He's glowing with I-did-good-today, and no one even has to tell him— Dean just knows he’s been doing great work, which is rare.

"Dean?" Zach's voice brings him out of his focus, "Could I speak with you in my office?" 

Dean looks up, smiling, "Sure, let me grab a pen quick."

"You won't need it," Zachariah tells him, turning on his heel and heading into his private office.

Dean frowns at this, and follows after Zach, closing the door behind him.

"What's going on, Zachariah?" Dean asks, standing near the door.

Zach sighs and runs a hand over his face. Dean's heart drops, "Sit, Winchester."

Dean comes forward to the chair and plops down in it, facing his boss.

"Listen, I seriously have no idea how to tell you this—" Zach starts.

"Am I done?" Dean asks.

Zach stares at him.

"Are you letting me go?" Dean clarifies.

Zach takes a deep breath, but nods, "You've got a week left. Finish up whatever you can and get project stuff in order. I'm going to call the rest of your team in here in a moment. Sorry I made you do that last time, I couldn't bring myself to."

Dean stares blankly. 

"Know that I didn't make this decision. No one who is working directly with you is responsible for what's happening right now. The program cuts are ridiculous and poorly planned."

"Okay," Dean says numbly.

"I can write you some recommendations to some openings I've heard of, if you want. I can even write a more specific letters as you're applying for other stuff too. I'm sorry Dean, you really don't deserve this," Zach says.

Recommendation letters? Right. For the job search. To find a job. Because Dean is _unemployed_.

Fuck, Dean is _unemployed_. He's a low-level employee, a liar, a criminal and therefore unfit to be a parent. He is a bad husband, a bad employee, and now he's fucking unemployed to prove it. This is simply the hammer on the nail that’s been positioned for so long over the mess that is Dean. 

"Yeah, okay. Thanks Zach. Sorry," Dean stutters. He can tell he's not all the way there, he's getting lightheaded and he seriously needs to get out of this office right now.

"How about you take the rest of today off? Would that help?" Zach asks, but it sounds echo-y.

Dean finds himself nodding.

Then he's on the elevator. Then he's on the train. Then he's on his street, in his kitchen, in his and Cas' bed. 

Dean can barely remember what's going on. He knows he's sort of losing it.

He rolls on his back and stares up at the ceiling feeling everything and absolutely nothing all at once. It's oddly crippling.

Dean can feel when he starts to cry. His eyes water, then drip down his cheeks, then his nose gets stuffy. Pretty soon his chest is heaving. He's really crying and sobbing and blubbering.

He turns to his side to press his tear-snot-wet face into the pillow.

He catches a whiff of the aftershave that Cas uses on the pillow that is Cas'. The damn scent doesn't leave, even when he washes the sheets every other week. 

Bile rises in Dean's throat. _God_. Cas is going to _hate_ him.

Dean has to stumble to the bathroom to get to the toilet as he considers this thought. Cas is not only going to be disappointed, Cas might actually _loathe_ Dean once the finds out about all of this.

Dean hates the feeling of being sick, but he hates the idea of Cas not liking him more— he retches over the toilet three or four times before he can get his stomach to settle.

God.

Dean tries to go back to their room but he can't bring himself to go inside. He stands outside the door, arms up with his forearms resting on the wood to balance him.

Eventually he stumbles back downstairs and gets an old throw blanket to curl up on the couch.

He presses his face into the cushions and cries until he falls restlessly into sleep.

—

Dean wakes up at 3 am because he can't cool off. He still hasn't closed the windows and turned on the air, and Chicago is 85 degrees that evening.

Dean gets up and wavers on his shaky legs.

Everything comes back and Dean feels his chest constrict painfully.

He forces himself to take a drowsy headache medication and make his way back to the couch.

He's out pretty quick after that.

—

Dean wakes up again at 5:30 am. It makes sense because he had fallen asleep so early. 

He gets up and holds his head in his hands for a long time. 

He gets in the shower. Stands under the spray and doesn't do anything. Just stares at the water. He gets out after fifteen minutes without reaching for the shampoo or the soap. 

He goes to their room to find his phone. He needs to check it. He doesn't want to, but he should. 

He looks through notifications on his way to the kitchen. 

There's an email from yet another adoption agency, probably to tell him the same shit. There's a gas bill, a reminder to renew his subscription to the New York Times, and an email from Zachariah with a bunch of openings at positions he is suggesting Dean for. 

Dean reads through the email with the openings as he puts water and instant oatmeal in a bowl. He sets it to spin in the microwave and wonders if he needs to update his resume since the last time he was searching. 

As he starts to choke down the chewy bowl of cinnamon sugar oats, he checks his messages from Cas. 

_Hey, sorry I didn't text last night. I got in late because I agreed to a wine tour on a boat. I actually fell asleep during the tour Dean— I fell asleep! I wish you could have been there. It was very amusing._

_I hope you are doing well this week. I love you (unconditionally) and wish I could kiss you. Text me, call me - 4:34 am_

Dean stares at the message. It feels like this message isn't for him. This is for the Dean that Cas has made up in his head— the Dean that isn't a piece of shit. Dean clears the message. 

He takes a few more cautious bites of oatmeal before giving up. He sneezes. 

Fuck. 

Dean gets ready for work slowly. He cleans up his face with a razor and brushes his teeth. He puts on his work clothes without much thought. 

He considers ubering to work, but he's not a little bitch, so he stands on a packed southbound red-line train and tries to forget that he's Dean Winchester. 

It almost works.

He gets into work and sees that the rest of his team doesn't look much better than him. They all start their work begrudgingly, slowly shifting through what was, just yesterday, exciting new development. 

Dean goes to a salad place for lunch. He stares out at the street. He feels sick. 

People go by quickly. So fast that he can't focus his eyes on any one of them for long enough for it to be significant. In his line of sight, he can't see the sky. He's in a concrete box, looking out of the glass at another towering slab of metal. There's a pigeon on the curb across the street. It's gray and beady-eyed. 

Dean puts a slice of cucumber in his mouth. 

A bus goes by with an ad for the CW. Someone is riding a bike. There are people talking behind him in the restaurant. 

Dean realizes he isn't particularly grounded. He can't find the energy to find this troubling. 

His phone vibrating against his thigh has him paying more attention. He pulls it out and takes a peek at who is texting him now. 

It's Cas. 

_Hi Dean! Hopefully you are busy with good things at work right now, I know you were excited about new projects and such. Just wanted to text you and tell you I'm thinking of you._

_There are seagulls that you can hear calling when you walk on streets close enough to the sea. Reminds me of how you like the way seagulls sound. Reminds me of that day we were down by the lake that one June. I miss that- 12:36 pm_

Dean wonders why his heart is breaking. 

_Why is my heart breaking?_ He asks himself. 

Dean trashes his salad and heads back to work. 

—

The week passes slower than ever. 

Dean ties up loose ends for work as quickly as he can and pacifies Cas with vague and fabricated texts that tell of work on his car, new exciting things at his job and drinks with coworkers. 

At home, Dean fills out each of the applications that Zach sent his way. He carefully reads all the requirements and sends in closely proofread cover letters and resumes. He applies for a couple he finds on Glassdoor, but neither of them seem exactly in Dean's playing field, so it's probably a reach to apply. 

Dean considers schools— if he's soon going to be out of Cas' place and he doesn't have a place to work, now would be a good time to get some sort of certificate so he can try to get higher positions and more stable salaries. 

Dean is trying to bury his heartbreak in work. 

He looks over his finances and decides he can't go back to school unless he can find something part-time too. He really would rather keep working than go back to paying too much for textbooks anyways.

His last day of work rolls around. He sends some emails, packs what little is in his desk, and turns in his key card. Zach isn't there when Dean leaves, so he never really says goodbye. 

At home, he strips to boxers and wraps himself in the old quilt Cas' grandmother had given them for their wedding. It smells like Cas' parent's house. 

Dean lets out a fresh bout of tears when he realizes that Becky and Chuck are bound to hate Dean soon too. 

—

  
Sam checks in on Dean the Tuesday of his first week unemployed. 

They don't call— Sam has some event with Jess' yoga club that he agreed too, but he just hasn't heard from Dean in a while. Dean reassures him over text that things are good. He lies about working on filling out applications for a possible new position at SynCorp and taking a vacation day coming up. 

Sam is happy and brief, telling Dean he's happy for him and letting him know he'll call soon. 

Dean gets sicker. He's got a temperature and a cough. He's too weak to get off of the couch for long. He makes himself canned soup and drinks the warm ginger-ale in their pantry. 

Things feel awful— usually Cas takes care of him when he's sick. 

Cas calls but Dean ignores it. 

He answers Cas' texts as brightly as he can manage, telling Cas he's busy and not to worry. 

—

  
Dean wakes to find himself dizzy. 

He tries to remember where he is, what's going on and when the last time he showered or pissed or ate was. His brain comes up with nothing. 

It hurts to breathe, anxiety shredding at his lungs with each gasp. 

He hauls himself to the bathroom to piss. He ends up sitting on the floor, shorts down and head in hands. He cries because he's in pain, because he misses his husband, because his life as he knows it is simply over. 

The good things in his life are finished if Cas leaves him. Dean will be hollow for as long as he will live, knowing he fucked up the one good relationship he has ever been able to create. Dean mourns the loss of the love of his life as he kneels on the fucking bathroom floor. He wonders where he will go when Cas realizes what a fuck up Dean is. The house is mostly Cas', and Dean can't think of anyone he could stay with. Maybe he'll have to fly out to California to stay with Sam.

He knows he's being a little bit of a self-pitying asshole, that’s what Dad would say, hell that's what Sam has insinuated so many times. But Dean doesn't know what else to do. He's been fucking proactive, he's been healthy and applied to so many jobs. He's worked his ass off at work and been careful to keep Cas out of the loop.

Dean eventually gets his breathing under control. He knows he needs help, he needs help so badly. Unfortunately, any of the people he could think of to call would call Castiel immediately after. His friends love him, but not any more than they love Cas. The moment they caught wind of Dean mistreating Cas, lying to him, they would take Cas' side for sure. Dean can't handle losing his friends too.

He could call Sam, but Sam would just call Castiel right away. Sam has seen Dean get like this one too many times, and would drag Castiel home with worrying words like "depressed". Hell, maybe that's what this is, but Dean can't help but feel as though he's still responsible for letting himself end up this way. Depression is when you feel sad over the things that aren't your own fucking fault.

Maybe he is overreacting— but on the other hand, maybe Dean has epically fucked up. He has no idea which this is.

Dean decides the only plan of action is to hang on. He'll have to clean his act up, tidy the house, and get some stuff packed up so he has an emergency bag when Cas gets back. 

Then he's going to man up. He's going to buy Cas' favorite wine and grocery shop, and when Cas arrives home in two weeks, Dean is going to explain everything very slowly, with a cool head, and let Cas decide how to react. He's going to do his very best to make this easy for Cas.

Because right now, Dean is a mess. He's sick, his nose runny and his chest aching. His eyes are shot with crying and his body weak and sweaty. He would probably be starving if he wasn't feeling so disgusting and nauseous. He hasn't changed his clothes in a few days. He knows the fridge is empty and the kitchen is a mess. Their room is a mess, littered with tissues and empty cups.

But before Dean is going to clean up his life, Dean is going to need to get a good night of sleep. 

Dean walks slowly back to the couch in their back room, where the windows are open to the sticky air outside. He slowly eases himself onto the couch, well aware of how exhausted he feels.

Dean lets sleep nab him before he even has time to feel sorry for himself again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now have some Castiel POV, for your amusement.

Castiel gets off the plane with a sense of uneasiness. It's colder here in Chicago then it was in Milan. He knows that it’s ridiculous to call 66º cold, but after spending so much time sweating his ass off in Italy...

Cas picks up his bag from luggage claim. He considers for the one-hundredth time whether he should call or text Dean.

He unlocks his phone and stares at the mostly one sides conversation on their text chat between him and his husband. Dean has been so distant.

Castiel knows he has always been a mature person. He tries not to say this, because he thinks that calling yourself mature is something only an immature person would do.

When he was a child, he would be the problem solver for all the fights on the playground. He was the AP student, the quiet, bookish hard-worker in clubs and classes. He was the kind of teen to ask a girl out, and then become increasingly and uncomfortably bored with her because she didn't want to talk to him, she just wanted to kiss him and post pictures of him on her MySpace.

Cas knew pretty quickly that he was gay and that he had no interest in people who were living life as though it didn't matter.

Dean had walked into Castiel's life more quickly than any other human being. Dean, with the weight of the world on his shoulders, with his self-deprecating humor and unshakable work ethic. Dean and his desire to help the world before himself, his love for old movies and rock music, and the way he always made sure Castiel was doing alright.

Cas had never felt like someone had leveled with him— sure, he had loved before, but not like with Dean.

Dean was just imperfect enough that Castiel considered him to be the most perfect man he had ever laid his eyes on. Dean was humble beyond necessity, gracious with his love, carefully vulnerable, and gruffly unwilling to admit it.

The flaws that Cas could identify in his husband were his inability to see how much he was worth.

But lately, Dean had been doing so well. He had been fighting for the things he wanted, pushing for kids, and a home that suited a family. Dean had been working hard at a new job, and had been making connections with new clients, and coworkers.

Castiel could not be more proud.

But he's also terrified, to a point, of Dean realizing that Castiel isn't good enough for him.

Dean is kind and effortlessly passionate. Dean is open and charismatic. Cas is quiet and introverted. Castiel is anxious and plans everything to a fault. He knew it was a point of contention with Dean that Cas was unwilling to jump into having kids without college funds. Dean was ready to be a father, prepared to be everything any child could need or ask for.

Cas could remember countless nights after their first conversation, unable to quell the way his heart pounded at the thought of simply inviting a new person into their lives, of being unprepared for a human to care for. Cas needed to find an agency, an insurance plan, a color scheme for a child's bedroom. He needed to take a childcare class and—

Cas had always been the one to pick apart the details, while Dean watched him, his eyes big with emotion and hope that the two of them could help a kiddo that was suffering through the same things Dean had to overcome all by himself.

Castiel did not deserve this man.

Cas knew that Dean deserved someone willing to jump into this with him— and Cas was! He just needed time. Time to make sure they were making the right decision, giving the child a good place to come home to.

Cas also knew Dean hated the idea of him going to Italy for this trip. It was unfair to Dean, that much was certain. They were freshly starting their careers and exploring new parts of their relationship, thinking of children— and here Cas wanted to walk away?

Castiel was surprised Dean hadn't put his foot down.

But Dean had begrudgingly let him go, let Cas go secure his career and calm his anxieties in another fucking country for fourteen weeks.

So, when Dean's texts became briefer, when their calls became less frequent— When Dean spoke of new opportunities and friends, Cas assumed what was logical:

Dean had finally figured out just how valuable and worthy he was. 

And Cas... He didn't really fit into that.

Cas gets done two weeks early. It’s week twelve and he's back in Chicago, intent on surprising Dean at home. He wonders if maybe this is the wrong decision— perhaps he should call and confront him about it, ask Dean if Dean is planning to leave.

He thinks about it the whole Uber home, wondering whether everything is about to change, whether Dean has been lying when he says "I love you" at the end of every text. Whether Dean is really Castiel's anymore. 

He watches as the skyline of his favorite city rises into the bumper to bumper traffic, and sighs at the comfort of being _home._ Castiel will always feel more at home in Chicago than anywhere else.

They take the highway to an exit off towards their neighborhood, and the Uber zips down one-ways and under the elevated train-tracks to their suburban looking street in the city. Their little blue house on Sunnyside, with the ash tree out front and the two empty bedrooms that could easily become a spot for kids. 

Cas gets out of the Uber on shaky legs and grabs his suitcases. He hefts his backpack to his shoulders and feels the picture of wary.

He thanks his Uber driver and starts up the steps. 

Hopefully, whatever waits for him will be what's best for the both of them. Whatever is best for Dean.

—

Castiel opens the door with his key, noticing immediately that the lights are all off.

It's six o'clock on a Thursday, so this is odd. Usually Dean would be off work by now. 

Cas toes off his shoes next to Dean's running shoes and sets his bags down, breathing deep to smell the way home smells. He smiles to himself out of habit. He _ached_ for this place, for his husband.

Cas wonders vaguely if Dean is out with coworkers— the house is dark and silent.

Cas makes his way to the kitchen, brow furrowing as he takes in the mess. That is unusual. Dean, believe it or not, is actually the tidier of the two of them. There are plates and cups in the sink, the kitchen table covered in mail and papers, Dean's MacBook resting closed on the table.

So, Dean is home then?

Cas pulls the fridge open to find it practically empty. There's a couple of Trader Joes microwavable Indian-food dinners that Cas bought before he left, and an old carton of almond milk, plus some leftovers, but nothing substantial.

Something is... wrong here.

"Dean?" Cas calls, his voice edged with worry as he takes the stairs two at a time up to their bedroom.

It's just as messy as the kitchen, the bed unmade, and clothing scattered throughout the room. There's a half-packed duffle on the floor, Dean's gym bag. Has Dean been going to the gym? Castiel's side of the bed is obviously slept on.

Dean is nowhere to be seen. The room is a bit musty, as though no one has been in there in a few days. 

What the hell is going on?

Cas heads to the bathroom to pee, noticing some of Dean's boxers on the floor, and the medicine box pulled out on the counter. The cough syrup bottle is open, and there is a new box of Tylenol on top of their usual first-aid collection.

Cas frowns, zips himself back up and heads back downstairs. 

He checks the living-room and the office, both neater than the kitchen but still obviously empty.

He peaks into their back room almost as an afterthought, glancing at the couch before he plans to grab his phone and call Dean to find out what the hell is happening.

But there Dean is.

He's asleep on the couch in their small nook room, wrapped in two or three blankets, the topmost being the quilt his grandmother had made them for their wedding. 

Castiel's heart melts a little at the sight.

He approaches Dean slowly, sinking down into the armchair across from him and trying to decide whether he should wake him up.

Cas watches him carefully for a moment before he recognizes that something is still— off. 

Dean is always gorgeous, his eyelashes splashing across his face and his summer freckles more prominent than during the cold winter months. His lips are pouty and sweet, especially as he sleeps.

But Dean is trembling. In the almost 70º weather, with three quilts, Dean is quivering under the blankets. And, he looks unwell. His face is thinner, skin pale. He's curled so his knees bump against his chest and he's shivering in his sleep on the couch.

Dean is sick.

Castiel's heart breaks a little. His husband is curled on their couch, sick as a dog and hadn't even mentioned it. 

Dean has always been a bit of a baby when he gets sick, but Castiel enjoys taking care of him. He wishes Dean had said something sooner, Cas could have been on a plane a few days earlier had he known.

Cas suddenly wonders if that’s why Dean's been distant for a couple of weeks. Perhaps he has been under the weather.

Castiel reaches out and tugs the blanket higher to cover Dean's exposed chest. The movement seems to rouse Dean, because suddenly his eyes blink open, green and bright, stunning in the same way Cas remembers.

Dean's breath hitches when he speaks, "C-cas?"

—

"Hello Dean," Cas says, grinning, "Why didn't you tell me you were sick?"

Dean sits up faster than he ever has in his life. Here's Cas, home early and looking jet-lagged as fuck and so beautiful. The house is a mess. Dean is a mess. He has no plans for dinner, no time to tidy the bedroom, and no fucking idea how he's gonna tell Cas all this shit.

Dean chokes, falling into Cas' arms as Cas moves forward to hug him.

Cas squeezes Dean against his chest until Dean is gently hugging him back.

Cas smells so fucking good. He's warm and Dean's entire body screams a symphony of _don't-let-go_ , _hold-on-tight._

Dean fights to stop the waterworks. He doesn't let a single tear slide.

Cas pulls away and gets himself seated next to Dean on the couch, sharing Dean's space and snuggling into his side, his eyes on Dean as Dean cautiously meets his eyes.

He smiles at Dean, a hand reaching up to feel his forehead, "We should get you into bed baby. You're burning up."

Dean frowns, thinking of the half-packed bag on the floor of their room and whispers, "I'm okay, Cas."

"You're sick Dean. You have the flu," Cas smiles fondly, that small pitying gaze, tucking the blankets around Dean and running a hand absently through his hair.

The affection triggers the _bad-wrong-I-do-not-deserve-this_ in Dean, and he flinches away, his body stiff with the finally setting in realization that Cas just got home. Cas is home, and now it's time to tell him all about the shitty stuff Dean has done.

"Dean?" Cas asks as he watches Dean flinch, suddenly worry is in his eyes, and he leans back to give Dean some space.

Dean cannot breathe, he wasn't ready for this yet. He tries, gasping, and pushing the covers away to get himself some air. What the hell is going on?

"Woah, Dean, you're having a panic attack," Cas breathes, apparently wondering the same thing. He gets Dean down to the floor and untangled from the blankets in seconds, his hands maneuvering Dean so he's got his head down, and lots of space to breathe and settle.

Cas helps him through it, instructing him to breathe in and out with him, and squeezing his knee reassuringly.

Dean eventually comes down, his body shaky and weak, his head spinning and racing, "'M sorry."

Cas hums at this, "What are you sorry for, sweetheart? I'm sorry I overwhelmed you."

Dean’s lip quivers, eyes finally welling up.

"Dean?" Cas questions for the second time.

Dean shakes his head and makes to stand up. He feels Cas' hands try to catch him as he half stumbles out of the room and towards the kitchen. Cas follows him close behind.

"Talk to me," Cas pleads.

Dean gets to the kitchen, feeling a little like he's going to puke. Or maybe pass out. He reaches for the cupboard to get a glass as he says, "I will, I promise, hang on."

Cas nods, his eyes sympathetic. It hurts Dean to know that in just a few minutes he'll be leaving this behind.

Dean fills the glass in the sink, taking big gulps of water that soothe his rough throat. 

Okay, he can do this. 

"You should really be in bed Dean," Cas scolds, "If you've been sick for a while it's important you're getting enough rest and—"

"Listen, Cas," Dean says, stopping him in his thoughts.

"Yes?" Cas asks.

"I—I haven't been honest with you."

Cas looks confused and hurt, but strangely knowing, looking at Dean like he knows Dean is a fuck up already, "What do you mean?"

"I've been lying about what's been going on around here."

Cas stares. Then he backs off, nodding slightly, "Ok."

Dean stares at Cas now, getting ready to drop the ball. But Castiel beats him to it:

"I understand if you want to leave Dean. Hell, I get it."

Dean is stunned. _Want to leave?_ No way in hell. There is nothing Dean wants more right now than to stay.

"What?" Dean says, confused.

"If you don't want to be here, I understand," Cas says, quietly, looking downtrodden.

Dean gets up near him, gripping his forearms, "No, no Cas. I want to be here, I swear to you. I just—I'm not sure you'll want me to be after you hear."

Cas' eyes are wet, he looks like Dean is breaking him, "D-did you c-cheat on me?"

Dean's eyes go wide, "No! What the fuck, no Cas. I would never."

"Then what is going on Dean? Why are you acting like this?" Cas pleads.

"You really think I would cheat on you?" Dean asks, still stuck on the last piece of information.

"No, Dean. I just— I don't know what to think because you won't talk to me," Cas tries to explain.

"I would never. Cas, believe me, I would never ever do that to you, you understand?" Dean asks.

"I thought I knew that," Cas says, all small.

Dean sighs and finishes his glass of water, "Can we sit? Let me explain myself."

Cas nods, leaving the room before Dean can to plop down in the living room at the couch.

Dean follows, sitting down carefully across from him.

He takes a deep breath, "After you left. I had trouble... it was hard to be alone. It's been a long time since I've lived by myself. Hell, I've never lived alone. As soon as Sammy moved out, you moved in."

Cas isn't even looking at him.

"It was tough, Cas. I was trying to keep it together. I was trying to get so when you got home, I'd have it all together, be perfect for you. Trying to haul ass at work too."

Cas' face pinches at this, "Dean, what?"

"Let me finish, Cas."

Cas looks frustrated, but nods.

"Things hit the fan. I applied to the adoption agencies and... and they told me they didn't think we'd be able to adopt because of my criminal record," Dean rushes out.

Cas stares, and it's silent for a long moment. 

Finally he speaks, "Your criminal record?"

Dean shutters, squeezing the back of his neck and sighing, "Yeah."

"For what, Dean?" Cas asks.

"It's fucking stupid, Cas. So fucking stupid, I can't believe it’s even something that I kept from you, I should have told you, I should have come clean before we got married, I should have told you—"

"Dean, for what?" Cas growls out.

Dean chokes a little, his eyes wet, "For theft, Cas. I stole a fucking computer. It was so stupid. I am so fucking stupid. I was seventeen. I spent a whole month in jail, and I was seventeen."

Cas stares at him, watching as Dean starts to cry.

Cas rests a hand on his shoulder, "Dean, that's... That's just petty theft. That shouldn't be enough to prevent any and all adoption."

Dean freezes at Cas' hand on him, shaking his head, "But it still could make it hard."

"But not impossible. Dean, you were seventeen! All sorts of teens make mistakes like that."

Dean shakes his head harder, refusing to meet Cas' eye, "I should have told you. I shouldn't have let you marry me without telling you that it might be hard for us to adopt because of me."

"Did you know?"

"What?" Dean asks, exasperatedly.

"Did you know your record would make it hard before we got married?"

Dean hesitates, "No. But I should have told you about the record. Either way," Dean still isn't looking at Cas.

"Dean, I would have never pushed you to explain anything about your past that you are uncomfortable with sharing with me. I understand that things were tough for you and Sam when you were younger," Cas tells him slowly.

Dean scoffs, "Things were fine. That's no fucking excuse. I should have told you."

Cas is trying to pull Dean into a hug, but Dean pulls back, panicking, "No!"

Cas pulls away like he's been stung, giving Dean space.

"No," Dean breathes, making certain to keep his arm up between them so Cas can't get any closer to him, "I can't. That's not all of it."

"Not all of it? Did you get arrested again?" Cas asks calmly.

"No, not that. That's just not all that happened when shit hit the fan," Dean huffs.

"What the hell happened to get you so upset Dean?" Cas presses.

"I-I lost my j-job," Dean is trembling a little.

Cas' face falls, "Oh, Dean."

"I fucking lost my job. I can't even keep a stupid entry level job. I'm a shit husband, I can't keep it together to apply for adoption and now I don't even have a fucking job."

Cas is looking at Dean with these _eyes—_ like Dean has changed everything. Cas looks devastated, frayed.

Dean backs away a step, crying openly now, "I'm sorry. I really am sorry. I know I should have stood my ground with Zachariah. I should have worked harder, taken on some extra shifts, seen it coming. _God,_ you've been working so hard abroad and I've gone and fucked everything up. And even if we could get kids, without two adults with incomes _—_ it will be even harder to make it work and I'm _—_ I'm so sorry Cas."

Dean is really crying. It's been a long time since he's cried like this.

Cas is trying to get close to him again, trying to touch him.

"No! Can't you see?" Dean backs off again, pleading with Cas.

"I can see that you're really hurting right now," Cas says calmly.

"I fucking better be! I fucked all this shit up!"

"No, you really didn't. You had a bad time with how you've been feeling, and things have been bad, but you haven't messed anything up," Cas tells him.

" _Things_ have been bad? No, this is on me," Dean argues.

"It's really not. I don't know how to explain to you that it’s not," Cas tells him surely.

"How could you know, Cas? You weren't even here," Dean mutters.

Cas freezes a little at this.

Fuck, Dean's finally pushed him to the edge, Cas is going to kick him out any minute.

"I know. I wasn't here," Cas begins. He looks guilty and afraid, like he knew this was coming. Dean's brain has trouble understanding why he can't seem to find any anger.

Cas continues, "You needed support, your partner, especially when things went downhill, and I wasn't around. And I am sorry. Fourteen weeks was a lot to ask. I am so lucky that you even considered it _—_ that you made it an option for me. But Dean," Cas gives him a pointed look, "How am I supposed to know that you're hurting if you keep it from me?"

Dean wipes at his face, frowning as he speaks, "I wasn't going to mess with your opportunity, Cas. I couldn't be responsible for that too," His voice is small.

Cas huffs. There is another silence.

"Can I touch you?" Cas asks.

Dean eyes him warily. He knows how tactile Cas is, so it hurts some that Dean can't just give him what he wants. Curling in Cas' arms right now sounds like exactly what Dean doesn't deserve, but he also wants it so badly it hurts. Dean waves his hands, no. He's not giving up that easy, "Not right now. I don't think you should want to."

Cas makes a noise of disapproval.

"I think I should probably go," Dean says softly, his eyes raw.

"I think I should probably take care of you, sweetheart," Cas counters firmly.

"I don't deserve that."

"You do. At the very least, stay here."

They stare at each other for a long moment.

Dean coughs rough in the back of his throat. Castiel raises his eyebrows.

"Ok," Dean huffs, "I'll stay."

_—_

Dean begrudgingly drinks another glass of water. He turns his nose up at any of the food Cas suggests he orders. 

Cas sends him upstairs to change while he orders himself something to eat. Cas leaves the awareness that the house is practically bare of food unspoken.

Dean quickly changes into a hoodie and some sweats, unbothered to change his socks, which have been on for almost 72 hours straight. Dean catches sight of the bag he had started to pack. He thinks of moving it, hiding it from Cas. Maybe Cas won't see it, won't kick him out.

Before he can figure out what to do with the bag, Cas is coming into their room with a stack of blankets and the bottle of NyQuil.

Dean freezes, duffle in hand.

Cas crosses the room and deposits the items on the bed, turning then to Dean to watch what he's doing. 

Dean gingerly places the bag back on the floor, slowly straightening up, back to Cas. 

"What's in there?" Cas asks, voice flat.

A pause.

"Clothes," Dean whispers.

Another pause.

"You said you'd stay," Cas whispers back.

"I know."

They end up laying face to face. Cas on his own side of the bed, and Dean on his. They are feet apart, their warmth still making the bed feel right in a way it hasn't in a few months. Dean takes in how tired Cas looks, jet lagged. At the same time, Cas is as fucking gorgeous as always. His eyes are bright and blue, his skin tan with Italian sun and the little smile lines near his eyes endearing him.

Dean wants desperately for things to be ok.

"I wish you wanted to stay," Cas says eventually.

Dean's brow furrows, "I do."

Cas shakes his head against the pillow, his eyes on Dean, "Then why do you have a bag packed?"

"Didn't think _you'd_ want me to."

Dean wonders how Cas can stand to not hide his face when he cries. Dean knows that Dean is the weaker of the two of them, but he still cannot fathom how Cas can keep his face forward, challenging Dean as tears drip down his nose.

Dean has to fight every urge he has to wrap Cas up and whisper sweet things until things are all back to normal.

"I always want you to stay," Cas breathes. 

Dean shakes his head, hiding his face so he can watch Cas with one eye, the other hidden in his pillow. They continue to maintain their gaze for a long time. 

—

The sound of the doorbell breaks their standoff. Cas sits up slowly, pulling himself from the bed to run and get whatever food he's ordered for himself off the nearby Grub-hub suggestions. 

"You should take some of this NyQuil," Cas suggests, grabbing the package and pulling the little kid-safe bottle lid off, "When was the last time you had some?"

"Can't remember," Dean provides. 

"Today?" Cas asks, trying to stay calm with the knowledge that Dean is having trouble keeping track of time. 

"Nah," Dean says. 

At least there's that. Cas decides to pour Dean a dose, suddenly wondering if perhaps Dean shouldn't be left alone with substances and things he could hurt himself with. 

The thought is a preserving one, but it still makes Cas' chest hurt because he thinks it's reasonable. 

He sets the small plastic cup with the blue liquid on Dean's nightstand.

"Take it," He instructs, "Then more water. That'd better be gone when I get back."

Dean doesn't respond. 

Cas heads downstairs to grab the food from the front porch. It's fried rice and soup dumplings. Hopefully, Dean will perk up at the idea of one of his favorites. Cas retrieves some extra plates from the cupboard above the fridge, laying out their food and grabbing another glass of water from the Brita to replace the one that Dean is supposed to be finishing. 

Cas balances everything and makes his way up the stairs, nudging the door open to the room. 

The water glass is empty, as is the small plastic cup of NyQuil. Dean is buried in the sheets, his face hidden. 

"I've got food," Cas announces, going around the bed to sit gingerly on his own side, "You're welcome to some if you're feeling up to it."

Dean is quiet at this. 

Cas eats slowly. His appetite is pretty small, as peckish as he had been when he first had touched down. 

God. Things had gotten pretty bad. Cas can't believe he didn't notice sooner. Dean had been off— off like after a scene, off like after a hard day at work, or a reminder of something alike to his father. Cas can't believe he didn't figure out what was happening with Dean sooner. 

Cas should have never agreed to the stupid Italy program. With Dean's recent salary secured, it would have only been a couple of years before they would have been more than financially fit to bring a kid into their lives. It was overkill for Cas to take the position. 

But it wasn't exactly— Dean had been laid off by SynCorp. 

Not that this information has come as a surprise to Cas. SynCorp's head company, NuroTech had been known for mismanagement of startups. They often took smaller tech companies with a good idea and an inspirational leader and poured in funds and company structure that didn't quite work. There were a few cases in the last two years of NuroTech startups going under because they had invested in areas that simply didn't fit the market. It truly wasn't Dean's fault— SynCorp just didn't have the demand in Chicago. 

Cas certainly knew that Dean was overqualified for that position as well. Zachariah had taken a liking to Dean instantly because Dean had seemed so excited at the prospect of the position— when in all honesty it was clear to both him and Castiel that Dean could fulfill a much more vigorous role without question. Cas hadn’t said anything to Dean though, because Dean had been so excited.

Zachariah's quiet acceptance had frustrated Cas. They had never worked together directly, but Cas was aware of Zach from word of mouth of other professionals. He was seemingly a nice guy, but there was something off in the way that he liked having total control over his subordinates. 

No matter how much Dean liked Zach, Cas didn't like the idea of Dean being his subordinate in any realm of the word. 

Hopefully, Dean would be able to find something. The economy was in a surprising upswing, and although Cas had voted against the current party in office (he was certain the economic upturn was either unrelated or based in short-term policy) he would admit that things were still looking good for Dean's career. 

An impressive portfolio of experience, a good GPA, a letter from Zachariah, and a polished resume, and Dean could probably swing a job anywhere if he tried. 

Not to mention how charming Dean was in a suit. 

So, Dean's unemployment truly wouldn't have made a difference. Cas didn't have to go to Italy. 

Kid be damned. Cas would take Dean Winchester over a child he had never met any day. Dean was the important thing in Castiel's life. Cas wondered if Dean felt the same. He knew how important the kid was to Dean. Cas would do anything to see Dean happy, even if it meant Cas out of the picture. 

Cas truly didn't think they would be unable to adopt due to something that happened years ago either— it was absurd. Cas wonders momentarily why Dean hasn't spoken to Sam about this. Sam would have been able to clarify in seconds that Dean would still be a contender. Agencies just say that shit to do their due diligence— to scare actual criminals away from adopting a kiddo when they don't have the right intentions. 

Dean is definitely not one of these people. 

What bothers Cas most is how torn up Dean is. Cas has known for a long time that Dean has dealt occasionally with what seemed like depression. Dean has never called it as such, or mentioned anything along those lines, but it was clear he often struggled with it. Nothing to this extent, however. 

Cas wonders whether this contributed to Dean ending up sick. It hurts his heart to imagine Dean so panicked about what Cas would think that he ended up physically ill. 

Cas finishes what he feels like he can eat, then sets the plate on his own nightstand. 

Cas sneaks down so he's under the same blanket Dean is, peaking his head under so he can try to get a look at Dean's face. 

Dean is staring almost blankly into the covers but shifts his gaze when he sees Cas join him. 

"Hungry?" Castiel pries again. 

Dean shakes his head. 

"Tired?" Cas tries. 

Dean makes a small noise in agreement. 

Cas hums and nods in understanding, just giving Dean space. 

Dean's eyelids slide closed, the NyQuil obviously kicking in. 

Suddenly Cas feels like his chest is going to collapse if he doesn’t get his body against Dean. Castiel loves physical affection. After months of being away from Dean, who usually gives it profusely, he feels touch-starved and achy for it.

"Dean?" Cas asks, hesitantly. 

Dean doesn't open his eyes, but he lifts his eyebrows like he's listening. 

"Could I— Can I hold you?" Cas asks carefully. 

Dean is frozen for a minute, before he thaws some and seems to give in. He rolls forwards so they're finally— _finally_ — chest to chest. 

Warmth radiates from Dean in a way that's a little fever fueled, but Cas soaks it up like it's heaven. Dean smells like home, all sweat and clove soap and the basil of their Mrs. Meyer's disinfectant spray. Cas thinks, not unkindly, that he should get Dean into the shower. His breath fans across Cas' face and tangs vaguely of morning breath and cough syrup. Cas reminds himself that this smell is a sign of his ability to take care of Dean, however small the act of getting medicine in him may be. 

Cas uses his free arm to guide Dean so they can breathe fresh air, Dean's face tucked over Cas' shoulder and his torso getting closer. Cas gently slides a leg towards Dean, one of his feet easily brushing against the cloth of his sweatpants. 

He eyes Dean this close. He feels him. Dean is freckled and warm, sweet and golden. His hair is blonder than it had been. He is soft in Cas's arms. 

At the same time, Dean is unwell. His eyes are dark, and his lips chapped. Is he thinner? Cas can feel how Dean is small under his thick clothes, his collarbone visible from the loose hoodie and his waist tiny where Cas is pressed to him. Dean has always been slim, but this seems like it is more than usual. Cas can't really tell under the clothes though.

He cups a hand around the back of Dean's neck, scratching a bit at the soft short hair. 

"I love you," he whispers. 

Dean doesn't say it back, but Cas is sure it's in there somewhere. 

—

Cas wakes in the morning to find himself on his back. The morning sunlight is coming in through the windows to stream onto their bed and into Castiel's eyes. Dean is laid across his chest, sweaty and squirming a little. 

Cas yawns and tightens his arms around his husband. God this feels so right. Even with all the conversations that need to be had, it still feels like a step in the right direction to wake up in their space, the two of them touching. 

Dean's hands are up Castiel's shirt. This was not an unusual situation before Castiel left. It strikes him as interesting, Dean seeking comfort in bare skin, in closeness, when he spoke so many times of keeping their distance yesterday. 

Cas uses his fingers to scratch at where they are on Dean's back, running them against his hoodie. 

Dean rouses a handful of minutes later, getting hot with the sun and his obvious fever. 

He lifts his head from Cas' chest, "Cas?" He says groggily. 

"Good morning," Cas says, brushing Dean's unruly hair back, then letting his hand settle against his forehead to feel for his temperature. 

Dean makes a noise of discontentment and Cas frowns. They need to do something about how hot Dean is getting. 

Suddenly something occurs to Castiel, "Is the air conditioning on?" 

Dean's nose pinches as he thinks, "I can't remember."

Cas hums, then gets his hands down to the hem of Dean's hoodie and starts to ruck it up, "Can I take this off? You're burning up."

Dean hesitantly agrees, eventually lifting his torso up so Cas can pull the clothing away. 

In the brief glimpse that Cas gets, Dean's bare chest is slim and freckled. His shoulders curl forward as he nervously hikes the blankets up over them, putting his chest back down on Cas' so he can't get a good look. Castiel doesn't miss the way Dean is quivering. From exactly what, he does not know. 

Cas' hands make their way to Dean's shoulders, then ease down his back, feeling his muscles and warm skin. Cas scratches his nails down Dean's spine and feels Dean melt into him. Dean has always responded well to positive touch, particularly those that Cas will give when they are hidden away under the covers. 

Cas reminds himself that he knows everything about this man. Dean may seem distant, he may not be acting like himself, but Cas knows everything about him. 

"We need to feed you," Cas mutters thoughtfully, "Then maybe I can tidy a little while you shower."

Dean huffs, but says nothing, chin against Cas' chest. 

"A bath?" Cas tries again. 

"Not hungry," Dean answers. 

Cas tuts, "You only get one _not-hungry_ pass, Dean. It might feel weird, but you've got to try to get something in you."

Dean scowls, "I can tidy the house before I shower."

"No," Cas says, his tone final. 

Dean's eyes glare up at him. 

"Can I cook?" Dean asks. 

Cas considers this before deciding, "I'll help."

—

Cas heads down to start the coffee. Dean pulls a t-shirt on and they end up in the kitchen, Dean sitting at the island and chopping veggies for omelets while Cas keeps an eye on the first one on the stove. 

They sit across from each other during breakfast. Cas drinks their coffee out of his bee mug, enjoying the flavor of the local coffeehouse beans he had missed so much while he was abroad. 

Dean pokes through his omelets, picking out veggies to eat and just the fluffiest parts of the egg. 

Castiel decides that's better than nothing. 

Cas gathers dishes from around the kitchen as he was cooking, putting things away here and there and spraying down the countertops to get the room smelling clean. 

Dean sort of disassociates as sips at his coffee. 

"You called Sam lately?" Cas asks, genuinely curious. 

Dean thinks for a moment, "We texted the other day. Think the last time we called was a couple weeks ago."

Cas hums, "Did you ask him about the adoption stuff?"

Dean shakes his head. 

"Why not? Sam mentioned being interested in adoption attorneys."

"Figured he'd call you," Dean admits. 

Cas shakes his head, gathering another bite of omelet and chewing it, "He probably would have."

Dean nods, "Worried he'd take your side."

Cas stares, food in mouth, confused. 

He swallows before he speaks, "My side? There are no sides here, Dean."

Dean tilts his head side to side, "I did lie to you. Thought you'd be pissed."

"I am frustrated," Cas agrees, watching as this statement makes Dean's face waver, "But I'm mostly frustrated that you'd think any of this would make me want you to leave."

Dean chews his lip, thinking, "I still feel like I lied to you a lot here. I don't deserve you to be so forgiving to that."

"Why do you think that you are in charge of choosing what you deserve from me?" Cas grumbles, "Is that not my prerogative?"

Dean stares, "I guess."

They are quiet for a moment, Castiel rising for another cup of coffee. 

"I think we need to talk about some of the things you mentioned last night. I am concerned about what's going on in your head," Cas begins, "I am also quite worried about your temperature though. I don't want our conversation to make you any less well than you already are."

Dean isn't looking at Cas. 

"Can I convince you to shower? Then maybe we can watch some TV and try to figure out how to move forward."

The instructions are specific. Castiel knows that Dean does well with specific requests when he is struggling. Castiel does well with giving specific instructions. They make him feel like he’s got control.

Dean takes the suggestions without hesitation, nodding and scooting away from his plate. Cas grabs it before Dean can try to wash it himself. 

Dean heads up the stairs slowly. 

Cas tries not to worry. He cleans from breakfast. He stacks some of Dean's papers on the table and plugs his laptop in. Cas rearranges the pillows on the couches. He clears the coffee table and locates the remote. He puts a little bit of water in the oil diffuser Dean got him for his last birthday. He turns on the air conditioning and sets it at comfortable. Hopefully, Dean's fever will go down if it's not quite so hot in their house. 

He runs upstairs, listening to the bathroom door for a moment to hear water running. 

Cas grabs a fresh set of sheets, a quilt and one of those king-sized soft blankets from the linen cabinet. 

He strips their bed in their room, tossing the old sheets and some of their clothes from the floor into the hamper. Cas notices that Dean has been wearing Cas' clothes more than his own. Castiel thinks this is a good sign. 

Cas makes the bed, then tosses the duffle that has been sitting on the floor under the bed. That's not something he wants to think about. 

Cas takes the huge blanket downstairs and sets it on their L-shaped couch. He plops down and fiddles with his phone, waiting for Dean to emerge. Cas can feel himself becoming anxious because he doesn't have a plan. Dean can't seem to listen to what Cas is saying. He's in it so deep that Castiel is struggling to help him see things clearly. Cas has no experience with helping through depressive episodes, and he's already jet-lagged and out of his width. 

Castiel wonders if Dean has ever gotten like this before. Perhaps Sam would be aware of what Castiel could do to help Dean get back on his feet. 

He decides to bite the bullet and grabs his cell, dialing Sam up from their recent texts. 

"Hey! Cas, what's up?" Sam asks, his voice sounding like sunshine. Cas has always loved Sam. 

"Hello Sam," Cas greets. 

"Are you still in Italy? It's been forever since we've talked, how was Milan?" 

"Actually," Cas lets out a humorless chuckle, "I just got home. Italy was wonderful, and there aren't even words for Milan's beauty."

"Welcome back to the states," Sam jokes. 

"Yes. Actually, I was calling you to ask about Dean quickly."

"Yeah, where is he?"

"Well, he's in the shower right now," Cas says hesitantly, "But I have become... concerned."

"Concerned? About Dean?" Sam asked, his voice losing some brightness. 

"Yes. There's no easy way to ask this, but, has he ever dealt with depression in the past? Before I knew you?"

"Uh," Sam sounds a bit resigned now, "I mean, not in so many words. But probably, yeah."

"Has he ever mentioned it to you?" Cas asks. 

Sam makes a disbelieving noise, "Dean? He wouldn't talk about his feelings with me if I paid him."

Cas makes an agreeing noise, "That does sound like Dean."

"But," Sam is thinking, "I think Dean has gotten down in the dumps before, y'know? Like mopey."

"What do you mean by mopey?" Cas asks. 

Sam sighs, "Just. Tired. Removed and sometimes a little under the weather. I remember a couple times when Dad was gone for a long time and we were low on money Dean would get pretty sick and out of it."

"Not making sense?" Cas presses. It's actually comforting to know that this has happened before. That means that Dean has been through something like this and gotten back to normal. Maybe Cas can help. 

"Uh, yeah. Like he felt like it was his fault that we were broke and Dad was gone, even though I'm sure he knows that's not true."

"That also sounds like Dean," Cas says.

"And one time, Dad uh, well," Sam starts, hesitantly, "What has Dean told you about Dad?"

Castiel sighs, "Some. I can tell there's a lot going on— more than Dean is willing to share with me. I intend to respect that."

"Yeah. I get that. Dad was not easy on him though. Dean got pretty roughed up and then he was outta commission for about a week. I was pretty little, so that was scary."

Castiel's heart aches at the image of a young Sam Winchester, all sweet and smiley, terrified because his big brother was having a tough time. Castiel tries not to think about the suspicions that Sam has just confirmed about his husband too. He tries not to let his stomach fill with rage at the thought of John Winchester laying a single finger on the man that he wants to fill every waking minute with.

But Castiel honestly had known. He knew when Dean was hesitant to hold his hand in public at first. He knew when Dean flinched when shouted at, people pleased, and had to leave the scene whenever people started to throw punches. Hell, he knew there might be issues the minute Dean put a harsh _no_ on the word "Daddy" in bed.

"I had to basically treat him like a kid for a couple of days. Get him to eat and stuff. Remind him that he was being crazy, and it wasn't his fault, you know what I mean?" Sam explains. 

"I do," Cas agrees, "That is very helpful." 

Cas can do that. Take care of Dean, remind Dean of all he is worth.

Sam laughs softly, "Is he okay?"

"I want to be honest with you Sam. Things are looking pretty rough."

Sam is quiet for a moment.

Cas speaks again, "I am going to take care of him. I love him."

Sam sounds upset as he speaks, "I know you do, when was that even a question? You're married!"

"It's a long story, really."

"I've got time."

Cas can hear Dean shuffling around upstairs, and he panics a little. Cas isn't sure Dean would be so happy that Cas called his brother, after what Dean told him at breakfast. 

"I don't. Dean is about to come down," Cas says.

"Okay. Okay, but text me later. I want to make sure he's alright. Dean can get pretty down on himself."

"I know he can."

"Listen, Cas," Sam sounds like he's worried, "Do you need me to fly down? I think I've got some extra points with Spirit..."

"Let me ask Dean. I don't want to embarrass him." 

"Sounds good, just text me or something. Talk to you later," Sam says.

"Thanks Sam."

—

Dean has to figure out what he's going to do. To be honest, he's pretty confused.

He was so certain that Cas was going to, at the very least, kick him out that he's not sure what to do now that he's been fed and cuddled and sent to shower.

Dean has to remind himself to grab the soap and start scrubbing. Even a fucking shower feels like work. Dean can't imagine willingly fussing in the shower like Cas sometimes does with him. How had Dean ever had the energy for face wash and shaving foam and soaping up both him and Cas is beyond him. Every breath feels like work right now.

Dean stands in the lukewarm spray and tries actively to sort his brain out.

Cas doesn't want him to get out. Cas wants Dean to stay. Cas is upset but because Dean didn't speak up sooner.

Dean feels his chest constrict at simply remembering Cas saying, " _I am frustrated_ ," with that determined face. He knew Cas would be pissed, but it still feels like shit to hear the words from his lips. And that was the nice version: Cas is too kind to ever really come down on Dean.

Is Cas right? Could they really still adopt with Dean's criminal record?

Besides that, could Cas really love Dean and be happy if they couldn't? Does Dean believe that? Even after all the work Cas has done to make kids possible?

Dean rinses the soap off his body.

Can Dean really give in and take advantage of Castiel's kindness? Just... let Cas nurse him back to health and convince him things are okay? Is that fair to Cas? Is that even fair to Dean?

Dean— doesn't know the answers to these questions. He's too tired to really think of fighting with Cas much more. He doesn't know where he would even go if Cas were to kick him out.

Dean shuts off the water and resigns himself to letting Castiel take the reins.

—

Dean slowly makes his way down the stairs with his hair still soggy, cuddled in one of Castiel's University of Chicago sweatshirts and a pair of thick sweatpants. He feels weird just being in his underwear when things are still uncertain. 

He makes his way to the family room and finds Cas under half of the coziest blanket in their home, perusing Netflix.

"Different shows available. I missed the good old American Netflix," Cas comments as Dean settles next to him.

Cas tosses the free blanket over Dean, insinuating that it is alright for Dean to come closer, if he wants. Dean takes the invitation. He's too tired to try to figure out how he's feeling on his own. It's hard to argue when Dean isn't sure what he's arguing against.

"What do you want to watch?" Cas asks.

"Dunno," Dean says.

Cas makes a face like he understands, then pulls up something called _Tiny House Nation,_ "Is this okay? I discovered it recently. They build very small homes."

"That's fine," Dean agrees.

About ten minutes into the episode Cas has pulled Dean down so his head is in Castiel's lap. Cas' fingers are running through Dean's damp hair, nails scraping gently against his scalp.

Dean can't help but melt into the way that it feels, his eyes feeling oddly heavy for how much sleep they had gotten.

Cas just keep petting him, sometimes running a fingertip over the shell of Dean's ear.

"I know this might not make a lot of sense right now, but I want to talk to you about some things," Castiel says.

Dean doesn't reply.

"I need you to understand this. I'm not going to stop you from arguing with me, but know that in my head, we are fine. Everything you have told me is not anything _close_ to a deal breaker for us," Cas explains.

Dean is glad he doesn't have to look at Cas. It's easier to watch the reality TV show.

"I want you more than any child we could adopt. I want you whether you are making a billion-dollar salary or nothing. I want you when you're sick and when you're feeling unwell."

Dean makes a huffing noise. Castiel looks down at him with a raised brow.

"Do you know what I mean when I say unconditional, Dean? Why I speak so highly of it?" 

Dean still says nothing.

"Unconditional means that there isn't anything you could do to make me want you less. It means that I am sticking with you through the things you think I shouldn't stick with you for. I love you, and I do it without conditions because I think you deserve to be loved for exactly what you are."

Dean hides his face in Cas' lap while he speaks. Cas has always been poetic and open with how he feels, but that doesn't mean that Dean has gotten any better at pretending like it isn't hard for him to hear. These are the sort of things that get said to girls in movies, not to Dean.

"I want to address the fact that you felt like what happened would make me leave. Have I done something to make you feel that way?"

Dean realizes suddenly that maybe he's a little bit fucked up in the head. 

Because, no. Cas has never made Dean feel unloved. Cas has never had crazy expectations or been judgmental about Dean's past. Really— it's Dean who has decided Cas should be upset. Dean who has set the bar for himself higher than Cas would ever reasonably think to. 

This is all just... Dean's. 

Which, god, doesn't that make it all worse?

Dean starts to shake as he lets tears fall into Cas's lap. 

Cas lets him— shushes the noises he lets free and runs his hands down Dean's back and through his hair. Cas lets him hide into his lap and let it out until he's exhausted. 

Dean is overwhelmed with the ability to see the situation for what it is. Dean has been getting bad again, getting confused and self-deprecating and started to hide himself away. Dean knows he used to tend to do this, but ever since Cas, it's seemed so much easier to just be open and honest.

Dean wonders why he never notices when he starts to spiral— why it all seems so obvious and truthful and clear one moment, and then shockingly unfair to himself seconds later.

At this, Dean speaks, "H-how can you love me when I get things all fucked up?"

Cas' response is immediate, "Because I do too, Dean. Everyone gets things a little mixed around sometimes, some people more than others— it's not who you are, it's a chemical imbalance."

"A chemical imbalance?" Dean asks, voice quiet and confused.

Cas takes longer this time, like laying it all out there is something he's nervous about, "Don't you think this is depression, Dean?"

Dean's brain freezes up a bit, like he should be considering whether to fight or fly. Fuck, is that actually what this is? He knows he had been vaguely thinking that this could be something like that, but really? Dean pulls his face from Castiel's lap, "Depression?"

"Yes."

Dean thinks for a long moment.

"I mean, I don't intend to assume. We should go see a specialist, even both of us. You shouldn't be hurting like this."

Dean licks his lips, his brow furrowed, "Hang on, let me figure out the right words for this."

Dean isn't often forced to put his feelings out there clearly with words. He's never been much of a sharer when it comes to his emotions. He was lucky when he was growing up that Sam could figure out through his body language, and even luckier when Castiel came along like the most accurate Dean Winchester codex ever made.

But now Dean is realizing that no one can quite understand him entirely— he is always shifting, feeling, and morphing through his life in a way that only he can perceive.

"I'm afraid to just call all of this shit depression and pretend like it’s not my fault, like I couldn't have done something better," Dean explains.

"It is not your fault its—"

"I could have called. I could have asked for help."

"Sometimes people with depression struggle to _eat,_ Dean. I wouldn't blame you if you struggled to ask for assistance."

Dean's mind goes to the empty fridge. He thinks of that time he tried to shower and couldn't get his arms to move to get the soap.

"I guess. I'm still—- I'm still afraid, okay?" Dean says, nervously running his hand through his hair.

Cas is nodding as Dean admits his fear, his hands finding Dean's to squeeze. He tries to get his gaze level with Dean's, "That is absolutely valid."

"And I don't want to be fucking depressed!" Dean says, his voice getting louder.

"Dean," Cas mutters, finally meeting Dean's wild eyes, "That's the most important part. That's literally all that matters."

Dean just nods at this, lip quivering, looking angry and afraid at the same time.

"Do you want me to call Sam? I wonder if he could make a weekend out here." Cas asks.

Dean shakes his head instantly, "No way. Sammy doesn't need to know about this."

Cas sighs, looking at Dean with telling eyes, pleading.

"He already does, doesn't he?" Dean asks, scrunching his face.

Castiel nods, trying to put as much apology as he can into his eyes.

"Damnit."

"Sorry. Would it help if he came to visit?" Cas asks carefully.

"Probably not. I'd just feel guiltier about him having to haul ass out here," Dean admits.

"You know Sammy likes to visit," Cas says with a furrowed brow and an expression of mild disbelief.

Dean rolls his eyes, "Yeah. He's got a trip planned in a few weeks though."

Castiel nods at this, "That's true. Well, if you're sure."

"I am."

It takes Dean a few episodes of Tiny House Nation and awkward small talk to end up in Castiel's lap again, but it happens eventually.

Cas orders soup dumplings for lunch. He gets groceries delivered via Shipt and convinces Dean to drink a Gatorade. Dean perks up after the sugar, and quietly eats a couple of dumplings while watching the TV. 

Cas checks his email for the first time since he got home. He's got a couple of work things to follow up on. 

He shoots Sam a text to let him know that Dean is alright. Cas types "Therapists Chicago" into the search box. 

Later, Cas noticed Dean trying his best to reach what appears to be a tense spot on his shoulder blades. Cas tugs Dean so his back is available without hesitation. Cas presses two calloused thumbs into the spot Dean was failing to reach and Dean lets out a hiss. 

Dean presses back, so Cas continues to apply pressure, rounding out his thumbs over the muscle to get it to release some tension. 

"You're pretty tight," Cas remarks haphazardly. 

Dean makes a noise of confirmation. 

"Been sleeping ok?" Cas asks. He knows that after sleeping shitty, Dean will often end up with some residual pain in his shoulders or hips. 

"On the couch," Dean says lowly. 

Cas' hands pause on Dean, "On the couch? You've been sleeping down here?"

It's easy for Dean to nod in confirmation because he's faced away from Castiel. 

Cas isn't even sure what exactly to do with this information— but he is certain that it makes his chest squeeze painfully. He bites a lip to stop a little noise of discontentment, leaning forward to wrap Dean in a brief hug. 

"No more of that," Cas reprimands, digging his fingers back into Dean's shoulder.

—

They go to bed early. Dean isn't up for leaving the house, and Cas is still jet lagged. Dean is much better, from what Castiel can see. He's still running a bit of a fever, and he seems exhausted, but Cas isn't worried about him collapsing anymore. He's quiet though. Even though they've talked about things some, Dean is subdued, careful to accept touches rather than give, and only speak when he's needed to.

Castiel is steadfast about the both of them sleeping in their bed again. He doesn't even make the couch an option. He helps Dean up off the couch as it gets to be later, telling him not to worry about their dinner dishes (Mac and cheese), and that he'll meet Dean upstairs.

Cas sets the dishwasher up, grinds the coffee beans so they'll have coffee as soon as they get downstairs tomorrow.

He heads upstairs to find Dean wavering at the foot of the bed, his hands tangled in the fabric of his shirt like he can't decide whether he wants to take it off. He's in his boxers now, Castiel notes, to his happiness. Hopefully, Dean can get back to being comfortable around him.

Castiel leads because he knows it's what Dean needs right now. He shucks his pants without hesitation, then yanks his shirt off to leave him in tight boxer shorts, a pair that he can't remember who originally bought.

Dean glances at him, and then copies Cas' movements, carefully pulling his shirt away. He hides behind the fabric, moving to go stick it in the hamper.

When Dean comes back to the bed, Cas finally gets a good look at his husband.

He's just... small. Dean Winchester, larger than life, glowing with ambition and care and humor is small and vulnerable right now. He isn't as filled out as he should be—definitely thinner than usual. He's sweaty and pale. His shoulders are turned in protectively and he's uncomfortable in his own skin.

Castiel knows that Dean is sick, has been feeling unwell recently, but it's tough to see how it's physically affecting his husband. Especially because he's memorized Dean in their bed so many times, when he is bright and muscular and healthy. 

Dean tucks the covers to his chest, hiding himself, "What?" He asks, defensive.

"Nothing," Cas shakes his head, "I just— You look—"

"Sick? Yeah. I got that. I'm sorry, okay," Dean says, a little pissed.

"I'm just worried about you," Cas says.

"I am well aware," Dean scoffs.

Cas is quiet for a moment, choosing his words carefully.

"Have you been eating?" Cas asks.

Dean's words are hurried, "Of course."

"Not much though?" Cas asserts.

"Not in the last week. Didn't have an appetite because I've been sick," Dean admits.

"But you were eating before that?" Cas questions.

"Of course. Started eating healthy shit too."

"Healthy shit," Cas parrots.

"Yeah. Fruits and veggies and salmon. That sort of stuff."

Cas is slow to respond, "That's... good. Not what you usually would go for." 

Dean has never been one for health food. It seems odd that he would make that change now, especially because burger eating and beer drinking had become staples of Dean's personality. Dean has never been unhealthy. He's careful about how much he eats and gets out to exercise when he feels like it'll make him feel better. Cas thinks Dean is pretty well balanced, aside from the ridiculous insecurity that Dean has harbored about his body sometimes. Castiel can't understand how his husband, gorgeous and fit, can even worry about his appearance when Cas has made it clear how much he loves it.

"Just trying to be healthy, ok? Not everyone can love to hit the gym all the time. Wanted to keep myself fit, y'know?" Dean explains.

Cas nods slowly.

"Even started running quite a bit. You had suggested I get some exercise, right?" Dean finishes.

Cas suddenly is pitched back to a phone conversation he remembers vaguely where he had been encouraging Dean to get outside to exercise more. He remembers what Dean said earlier, about _getting perfect for him._

The very thought raises bile to Castiel's throat. He has to push down the sweep of discomfort and fear as he registers that Dean had been twisting his suggestions for Dean to get out more into some sort of idea that Cas wanted Dean to change his body— to lose weight or exercise or something absurd.

Castiel has to take a deep breath.

"Right, I did suggest you get out for some fresh air more," He agrees.

Dean nods self-consciously.

Cas just stares at Dean for a little while, like maybe he can tell Dean exactly how fucked he feels with just a look.

Dean glances over a couple times to look at him, but it's like his stare is too strong— Dean can't hold it. He looks back at the ceiling after a moment.

So Dean talks to the popcorn, "I'm sorry, ok?"

"Don't be."

Silence seems like it's the easiest. It's both impossibly tense and so _right_ that neither of them can move an inch.

—

When he wakes up, Dean immediately notices that he can finally breathe through his nose again.

Dean wakes up to an empty bed. He is surprised— Cas seemed to adamant they stay close last night. Although he's feeling better physically, the whole situation sends off a couple warning bells in his head as he wakes up a bit more. 

Either something is wrong, or Cas has figured out he doesn't want to spend his nights in bed with Dean. 

Dean finds Castiel sitting on the stairs to the main floor, his elbows on his knees and his cheeks in his hands. 

He looks exhausted, but he's turned towards their bedroom door, like he's guarding, worried over Dean. Dean's chest feels warm with relief— Cas is here to stay. 

"Couldn't sleep?" Dean asks. 

Cas doesn't startle, so Dean assumes he heard Dean coming. 

But Cas takes in a little shaky breath in response. 

"Cas," Dean says more than asks, moving to plop down next to Cas so he's pressed to his side on the carpeted stairs.

Cas' eyes are watery when he pulls his hands away from his face. Dean's heart aches— he never wants to see his husband cry. It hurts ever fucking time. 

Dean can't watch, so he shifts his face into Cas' neck and kisses at it gently, "What's wrong?" He whispers into his skin.

Cas shivers, leaning into Dean's touch like he's worried its going out go style.

Dean hooks an arm around his shoulder. Suddenly he isn't afraid to touch Cas— why was he ever holding back? It feels so good to have him near.

"I'm okay," Cas says, his voice raw.

Dean blows out a breath against his neck, huffing a bit of a laugh, "Yeah, that's why you've got your head in your hands, huh?"

Cas hums in agreement at this.

Dean nudges his nose against Cas' jaw, then whispers, "What is it?"

Cas sighs, "I should not tell you."

"Why not?"

"You're having trouble right now. You do not need to be thinking about how I am processing."

Dean considers this, face still gently leaned on Cas', "That's why I should be thinkin' about it though. You take care of me, I take care of you."

Cas pulls away a little, searching for Dean's eyes and finding where they are sincere.

"You— god, I missed you," Cas says, his voice full of something that Dean isn't quiet able to pin down.

"I missed you too," Dean says with a small smile.

It's like they just noticed that they're finally together again. They've been together for over 48 hours, but they've just now realized they're breathing the same air again in this moment: at 3 am, Cas teary-eyed and Dean still raw & feverish. It is undeniable to the both of them that even at what seems to be a tough spot, there is genuine earth-shifting, time-bending movement when they are focused in on each other. Things don't matter because Dean will do anything to make certain that Castiel is safe and happy. Things matter more than they ever have before because there isn't anything Castiel wouldn't do to make certain Dean feels the same.

Castiel laughs a little incredulously, looking into Dean's eyes. Dean knows they are both rough on the edges. Dean leans forward, cupping Castiel's chin and kisses him.

They both seem to recognize that this is their first kiss since Cas has been home— since Cas said a breathless goodbye and pecked Dean one more time months ago.

It's soft and wet and gentle. They breathe into it. They both are slow to pull away.

When they do, Dean gets a thumb on Cas' cheek, "Hey."

Cas leans into his hand, his face still damp with tears, "Hello."

Dean chuckles at this, "Let's go to bed, Cas. We can talk in the morning."

Castiel just nods.

—


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is your "get better"!

They do talk about it. Cas explains that he feels like he doesn't know what he can do, and it makes him feel anxious. Dean explains that he feels the same way but wants Castiel to know that he's done everything Dean needed him to. They end up snuggled together, legs tangled and Dean's lips on Cas' neck. 

They have to take it easy for a while. Cas takes a well deserved week off work the next day, calling in to explain that he's going to need some time to adjust.

Dean's flu slowly dies down into achy muscles and a sore throat. Cas presses Tylenol and cold medicine, encouraging Dean to sleep and eat and hydrate. Dean starts to feel more like himself, cracking a few jokes and turning on a movie he had bookmarked on HBO that he thought Castiel would like.

They talk some. Nothing too groundbreaking. Cas reasserts his love and Dean makes a couple more attempts to apologize (which Cas tries to actively listen to, but always ends up rolling his eyes at).

They make out on the couch a couple of times. It starts as gentle, reaffirming kisses and ends up with them pressed together, lazily kissing, eyes closed and hands touching and smoothing. Things are taken slowly.

After a few days, Dean gets fucking tired of eating take-out and Cas' sub-par cooking ("No offense, Cas.") He announces he will be cooking dinner. He actually feels like he wants to do it— he is looking forward to doing something other than laying around: like he finally has energy again.

Dean thinks about whipping up these incredible fish tacos that he had made a few times before Cas took off for Italy. He starts to get the fish defrosted while he instructs Cas to get the charger for his computer and find the recipe.

Dean likes that he feels excited to cook and eat again. He loves these fish tacos, and so does Castiel. Maybe this is the beginning of something that could resemble normal.

Dean is chopping up some cabbage when he hears Cas make a little humming noise of interest.

Dean looks up from his knife, "What's up?"

Cas is looking at Dean's computer, turning it on for the first time in a while, "You've got emails. I can see the notifications," Cas' eyes widen as he continues to look at the subjects, "Dean! You've got to come look at these."

Dean sets the knife down, coming around the table where Cas has clicked into Dean's inbox.

He's got fucking job interviews. And an offer for the one he had already video interviewed for.

Two that Zach had sent him, and three that Dean had applied for on his own. Hell, one of those three is one that Dean had thought it was ridiculous to even apply for.

Dean's mouth hangs, "Oh shit."

"What?" Cas pries.

"I've got a bunch of interviews. And an offer," Dean explains, shocked. He looks up at Cas.

Cas is grinning, "Of course you do. You're Dean Winchester."

Dean shakes his head, laughing incredulously, looking back at his inbox, and scrolling through it to check he hasn't missed anything. His eyes catch on another subject, hidden between junk mail.

_"Novak-Winchester Adoption/Foster Offer"_

Dean clicks before he can process what he's read.

_Dean and Castiel,_

_We are looking to place two siblings from the Chicagoland area. I know you mentioned that you had been working with other agencies, but if you are still looking, I think these two would be a good fit for your profile_... 

"Claire and Jack, fourteen and eleven," Dean reads aloud breathlessly.

Cas' head snaps up from where he had resumed Dean's chopping efforts, "What?" He asks.

"Claire and Jack. They're siblings. They're local."

"Local?" Cas asks, a little confused.

"They're kids from Chicago that need somewhere to live. This agent thinks we would be a good fit," Dean says, his heart beating harsh in his chest.

"Really?" Cas asks excitedly, coming around the table again to look at the message, "Let's try to set up a time to meet them!"

"Yeah, okay," Dean says, eyes glued to the phone number at the end of the email, "I'll give the agent a call right now."

Cas nods, grabbing Dean's hand, his smile wide, "Dean, this is so exciting!"

Dean nods from where he's dialing up the phone, voice nervous as he agrees, "God, I hope so."

—

Claire and Jack are, for the lack of a better word, perfect.

They're staying with an old woman named Sheila Tate out on the west side. She's fostering them but doesn't want to have kids for long because she's already got three that are grown. She knows she can't help them financially if they want to pursue higher education and she can see how bright they both are.

Claire is strawberry blonde and full of attitude. She's on her guard when she first sees them, but after realizing they're a couple, she warms up more. 

Dean will later learn that Claire has had bad experiences with the men in her life. Her father wasn't nice, much like John. He had gotten custody over the two of them when her parents had gotten divorced even though Claire had begged her mother to let them stay. Now, with their father recently passed of a heart attack, their mother couldn't be found—like she had disappeared. Changed her number, moved. They'd been staying with cousins in a house too small until they couldn't put off school any longer. Claire had gotten in trouble with the cops when she had been pulled over while trying to drive Jack to elementary school in her dead father's old Camry.

She'd been going too slow.

Dean's heart ached for her: he knew what it was like to be the older sibling in an impossible situation, trying to take care of things. She is scarily protective of Jack, telling them right away that they should prioritize Jack if they are only interested in adopting or fostering one of them. She questions what school district they're in and explains that they need to be careful because Jack has a peanut allergy.

Claire will later quietly admit that she has only ever found other girls attractive, even when she was a little kid. She feels less nervous around Dean and Cas because she knows they have no qualms about who anyone loves. 

Besides this, she seems to understand some of Dean's shitty movie references and compliments the Impala where it sits in the driveway. Dean loves her the moment he meets her— it’s a kinda like looking in a mirror.

Jack is so sweet. He's got the same blue eyes as his sister, but his are bright with curiosity and a little clueless. Dean and Cas can tell that Claire has done a good job of keeping her brother out of harm's way. He is interested in hearing about Castiel's time in Italy, telling Cas that he had to do a bunch of research on culture there for a school project. Castiel tells him about the things he had seen, and Jack lights up with the realization that he had researched the exact same monuments. 

They leave Shelia's house with a promise that they will let the agency, Claire, and Jack know soon. Dean winks at Claire on his way out, and Claire's eyes widen like she can't believe it’s actually happening.

—

They fill out papers. So many papers. They get the house checked by the agency and by a private contractor. They buy beds and desks.

The agent questions Dean about the theft charges. He explains the situation to her, describes how he sat in jail and how he paid back the fines with interest. By the end of the conversation she seems unconcerned, asking about their plans for where the kids could enroll for school.

She tells Dean later that she thinks his background is actually a good one for kids like Claire and Jack, especially since Dean is with Castiel, who had a more stable home life as a kid. She’s confident they will be a good fit.

It’s basically confirmed happening. Cas and Dean get to see Claire and Jack once a week to get to know them as everything falls into place. They agree with the agent not to say anything too set in stone, just in case something falls through.

Dean asks Cas over and over again, "Are you sure you want to do this with me? Are you certain?"

Castiel tells Dean yes as many times as Dean asks. 

Dean sets up a consultation appointment with a therapist in Lincoln Park. He tells Cas about it and Cas kisses him for a long time.

Dean has three job interviews. He gets two offers. He has to sit down and do the math for his now three offers. He compares benefits and salaries and commute times and time off. Cas and he discuss it. Dean can hardly believe he's wanted in one position, much less three. Two of them are salaried higher than SynCorp, and the last has such good family health benefits and retirement matching that the similar salary doesn't even phase him.

Cas is giddy, "Dean, these are a far better fit for your skillset than SynCorp was."

Dean takes a new job, starting in two weeks. The one with good family benefits, a similar salary. Time off is pretty gracious because they're a well-established non-profit. 

Dean secretly feels weirdly proud as they switch their healthcare provider to his company's. Even if Castiel makes more money, it's Dean's job that has the benefits. He may not have a fancy degree, but in this way, he can provide for his husband. Castiel doesn't seem to exactly catch on to this, but he is excited by the prospect of their health insurance covering all of their dentist appointments in full. Cas happily informs Dean that the plan covers therapy as well.

Dean blows Cas as a wakeup. Castiel is very gentle with him, letting Dean call the shots. Dean tries to get Cas to press his head down, but Cas just shakes his head and comes into Dean's mouth without any manhandling. Dean frowns but is quickly pacified when Castiel gets one had on his dick and the other pressing into his prostate.

— 

A few weeks later Dean comes home from his third therapy session a mess.

He's finally past the point of pleasantries— they've gotten through all of the history. It feels weird to Dean to just tell and not listen in return. He's never been the first one to talk whenever he gets chatty about his feelings.

He reminds himself constantly that this is for his own mental stability. More often he finds himself remembering that this is for Castiel too. Dean will be better for everyone.

Dean keeps trying to talk through shit about work and about how he has been feeling like he has no energy mentally. She is actually super helpful when it comes to Dean's self-esteem. She listens as he talks himself into a corner, then points out where his logic seems to falter. She informs him that he does not give himself enough credit, and challenges him to let people fill in the blanks themselves rather than assuming what they will say.

His therapist though (bless her heart), keeps asking distracting questions about Cas, then in turn Sam, and then finally about John. Dean feels like she should have a fairly good grip on things now— he can't figure out why she hasn't picked up on the fact that he does not want to talk about John Winchester in any capacity.

It is this appointment that she informs him that she thinks that he's going to need to talk about John if he wants to feel better.

This makes Dean feel much worse. He tells her as much and she gives him a soft, pitying look, "That's just how it works, Dean. Sometimes it has to get worse before it gets better."

She weasels the basics out of him. John was mostly absent, except for when he wasn't. And when John was around it was because he'd run out of money or places to stay. John Winchester was a depressed, alcohol dependent adult. He had held it together long enough for Dean to learn some life basics, before the loss of Mary Winchester had sent him spiraling. 

Dean wonders sometimes if Dad ever really loved him or Sammy. He could remember a time when John was a grilling, dad-joke telling guy— but it was mostly clouded over with the John that Dean had to deal with up until their father died.

John was also angry and homophobic. He would send enough money to quell his own conscious before wasting the rest on drugs and alcohol. He would apologize and beg to sleep on the old sofa. He would berate Dean for his sexuality in the morning before leaving for another few weeks.

A few punches or kicks, occasionally. Nothing mentionable.

Dean can't even get himself to think clearly about this— it’s like his mind has mentally blocked out the times when his Dad had gotten aggressive. Every time Dean approaches the memories, it feels like he's thinking about something he shouldn't be, so he just stops.

Maybe it had been more than a few punches or kicks.

To Dean's credit, he feels as though he's come a significant way in understanding that this sort of behavior isn't normal from an adult. He had figured out in late middle school that what he was experiencing wasn't supposed to be something his father did. It was hard to fit into his brain because honestly, some of his peers had told him of similar experiences— their neighborhood wasn't a good one.

So, when his therapist, Laura, suggests that perhaps Dean hasn't come to understand exactly how wrong those things were, Dean is defensive. 

He shuts down, stepping back out of the realm of open and into carefully short responses.

She actually apologizes to Dean and asks if he's alright at the end. She knows she is pushing his boundaries.

He feels a million times worse than he felt going into the appointment on the way home. It sucks.

He gets home and feels all weird and depressed again. Has he really not been paying enough attention to his feelings about Dad? Fuck that, Dean cannot handle how weird he gets when he starts thinking about his father.

Castiel finds Dean curled up in their bed with the blanket over his head like a hood, staring at the wall and just leaning forward and backward. Dean starts with Castiel's entrance, realizing he was basically rocking in place. He actually feels as though it was helping to ground him, although he assumes it will cause concern for his husband.

He's correct— Castiel approaches Dean with careful words and hesitant touches, eyes full of worry.

He manages to get it out of Dean that therapy didn't go well. Dean can't seem to do anything other than cling to his husband once he gets his arms around his neck. Castiel doesn't seem to mind, he just slowly rubs Dean's back with big warm hands and enjoys the feeling of having Dean near. 

They order deep dish pizza and Dean nibbles through one slice.

"What did you guys talk about?" Cas asks, when Dean is finally starting to relax more.

Dean signs, picking at his cuticles, "My dad."

Cas makes a small, "oh", pushing his feet across the bed to rest against Dean's calves.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Cas asks, gently.

Dean groans, "That's exactly what I _don't_ want to do."

Castiel nods, understanding.

Dean sets his plate aside and gets himself closer to Cas, snuggling up against his side.

Cas speaks again a moment later, "If you ever need to speak about anything, you know I'll listen, right? I could never judge you for anything."

Dean hums a thank you, but that's really the end of it.

—

Sam flies in on a red-eye flight on a Thursday night. He insists on taking the train from the airport which Dean finds insane because it takes about an hour and twenty minutes and requires a couple of transfers. Sam always tells Dean that he likes to gather his thoughts on the EL. Dean makes Sam swear that he won’t transfer from Blue to Red at the Jackson tunnel. That shit is sketchy as hell.

Dean and Cas take off work, and Sam wanders in with a key of his own at 7:30 am. Cas is still working on coffee, a little grumpy because he and Dean had stayed up late to watch Hamilton on Cas’ new Disney plus account.

Sam walks in with a beat up suitcase and a brown paper bag with their favorite bagel sandwiches from Chicago Bagel Authority. He squeezes them both in hugs that last way too long and gets his coffee mug out of the cabinet to join them.

It’s easy for them to forget that there had been a period of time during Sam’s college career where Sam had come home to stay with Dean and Cas. It had been too expensive for him to live in Palo Alto in the summer because he would have to pay rent to live somewhere.

Those summers were some of the best of Dean’s life. Sam got an internship or a job. He and Cas were still in the honeymoon period where looking into each other’s eyes for an extended period felt like a very good idea. They spent lots of evenings down at the lake eating takeout and jumping off the retaining wall. They had too many noodles in Chinatown and tried as many different bars as their wallets could handle. Cas and Dean had gone to Chicago’s pride in Boystown. Sam wore a tutu willingly, which Dean will never let him live down.

It feels a little bit nostalgic to see Sam sitting across from them at breakfast. It makes Dean think of that little rental apartment they had first lived in together, constantly stepping on each other’s toes.

Sam shows them pictures of him, Jess, and Gabe. One of Gabe and Sam kissing either of Jess’ cheeks and another of Gabe and Jess sprawled on a picnic blanket with Sam’s legs tangled in Gabe’s.

Dean and Cas ask for the pictures to be sent to them.

Cas tells Sam about Italy. Dean tells Sam about his new job training.

“I was wondering,” Sam says carefully, “Would you guys think it was weird if I proposed to Jess and Gabe?”

“Fucking finally!” Dean shouts a little.

Sam grins.

“That would be wonderful, Sam,” Cas agrees, “How will that work? Will you and Gabe propose?”

Sam shakes his head, “We’ve sort of talked about it as a future possibility. Gabe made it clear the proposal was my job.”

Sam blushes as he says this. Dean might not still totally get how exactly the dynamics work for a group of three, but he can tell Sam is so happy.

“Did you buy rings?” Cas asks.

“Uh, yeah. Like forever ago,” Sam admits embarrassedly. God that’s adorable.

“You’ll have to send pictures. See if we can get them to come up for a weekend too,” Dean says excitedly.

“You guys can always come out to California too, y’know,” Sam teases.

Dean sees Cas shift a little—actually they can’t. They’re in the process of getting Claire and Jack, so they need to be around Chicago for house checks, meetings, and weekly visits. Dean can tell Cas is uncertain whether he can share this with Sam yet.

“Actually Sammy, we need to stick around Chicago for a little while here,” Dean says cautiously.

“For work?” Sam asks, not really paying attention as he glances at his phone.

“Nah. We uh, got in touch with an adoption agency.”

Sam’s eyes fly up, wide as his mouth, “No way!”

Dean is grinning, “Yeah.”

“So?” Sam asks eagerly.

“They found a couple of siblings from the westside. Claire and Jack,” Dean says.

“Wait, holy shit, you already found them? How old are they? Are you guys for sure going to get them?”

“We met them just a few weeks ago. Claire is fourteen and Jack is nine. We are pretty much guaranteed if things go smoothly,” Cas takes a breath and laughs, “You have a lot of questions.”

“Can you blame me? Guys this is so great! I cannot _believe_ you didn’t tell me right away.”

“Well Claire and Jack don’t even really know yet,” Dean admits, “We don’t want to upset them if something falls through. We have been hanging out with them about once a week though.”

“I’m sure they have an inkling if you’ve been seeing them weekly,” Sam says.

“Probably,” Dean agrees, “At least Claire does. She’s old enough to kinda have a say in what’s going on.”

“Fourteen and nine. Wow, you guys, those are not little kids,” Sam says, looking like he’s got questions.

“Do they really need to be?” Cas asks.

“Of course not,” Sam agrees, “It’s just unusual.”

“Well they wanna stick together, and we’ve got room. Besides, you know I hate babies,” Dean says with a grin.

“You do not hate babies,” Sam and Castiel say at the same time.

They’re right, Dean actually loves babies. But still.

“I am glad they’re a little older. That way they can agree to live with us and understand why it’s happening,” Cas tells them.

“I just think we’re a good fit. Their dad kinda reminded me of ours,” Dean tells Sam. The way he says this is layered. This isn’t lost on Castiel or Sam.

Sam’s eyes soften, “Oh.”

It’s quiet for a minute, Cas and Sam being careful with the knowledge that Dean has just willingly spoken about their father. Dean knows awkward silence when he hears it.

“Do you want to see pictures?” He asks Sam.

Sam nods excitedly while Cas lights up and grabs for his phone.

—

“So, Dean, how have you been doing?” Sam asks, the minute that Cas leaves the brothers alone while they are walking around downtown. Cas apparently couldn’t make it a minute without another cup of coffee.

Dean tightens up a little, but forces a smile, “I’m great, Sammy.”

Sam rolls his eyes, knocking into Dean with his shoulder, “I don’t really believe that, dude. Cas said you had a bad time while he was in Italy.”

“Cas wasn’t supposed to tell you that,” Dean groans, but he knows the cat is so far out of the bag.

“What happened?” Sam asks, ignoring Dean’s whining.

Dean exhales, “It wasn’t a big deal.”

Sam frowns, “Castiel called me asking for help, Dean.”

Dean’s eyebrows shoot up, his mouth dropping a little.

“Yeah,” Sam agrees, “Now talk.”

Dean sighs, “Fine. Told you mosta this stuff already though. I had to lay all those people off at my old job, and then Zach fired me, you know? I was just trying to find something else, so I wasn’t unemployed again when Cas got home.”

Sam just watches him, waiting for him to go on.

“I missed him, okay? It was hard to be home alone without him. And when I applied for the adoption stuff initially, they brought up the arrest thing.”

Sam frowns, “From 2009?”

Dean nods.

“But that wouldn’t necessarily even be a problem. You were what, seventeen?” Sam looks unimpressed.

“Yeah, I know. They kept telling me it was gonna be hard though,” Dean says, shaking his head.

“But obviously it hasn’t been. So, what happened?” Sam pressed.

“I hadn’t told Cas about the arrest. Didn’t tell him about my job either,” Dean mumbles.

Sam frowns, “Why not?”

Dean makes a noise in the back of his throat, “I really do not want to talk about this, Sammy.”

“Well you’re going to. You can’t just rely on Cas for all of this. He’s trying his best, you know,” Sam scolds.

Dean feels a flare of guilt shoot through his stomach. Sam is right, of course. Cas is there for Dean in sickness and in health, but that doesn’t mean that Dean’s issues haven’t been affecting Cas. Dean thinks back to when he found Castiel on the stairs in the middle of the night.

At the same time, Sam has no idea what the fuck he’s talking about.

“Fuck you Sam. I-I’m not, okay? I’m not just relying on Cas, I swear,” Dean says, “I’m talking to a therapist now too.”

Talking is a loose word, Laura actually hasn’t gotten that much out of Dean, but it’s mostly true. And he isn’t just relying on Cas now.

Sam looks surprised, “For real?”

Dean blushes a little, “Yeah. Cas thought it would be good for me to talk some stuff through with someone who does that stuff professionally.”

“And you just agreed?” Sam asks, disbelieving.

“Like I said,” Dean is sheepish, “I had a tough time when Cas was gone.”

“Yeah, you’ve been especially unclear about that.”

Dean wavers. It’s Sammy. Dean tells Sammy more than anyone.

“I just felt like Cas wouldn’t want me around anymore—if he found out about all the shit that happened while he was gone.”

Sam blinks at Dean, eyebrows pulled down, “That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Dean groans, instantly clamming up again.

“Cas loves you so much, you know that right?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, I do, okay? I just felt like I was gonna bring him down. Like maybe he shouldn’t want me anymore.”

Sam’s expression melts out of frustration and into concern, “Dean, I thought you had gotten past this self-worth stuff. I thought you were doing better.”

Dean laughs darkly at Sam’s puppy eyes. Leave it to Sam to reduce all of Dean’s messy thoughts and feelings to “self-worth stuff”.

“I am doing better,” Dean says earnestly, “And I told you, I’m seeing a therapist. Isn’t that good enough?”

Sam sighs, puppy eyes still shining, “It’ll be good enough when you start believing in how great you are.”

“You sound like a fucking rom-com,” Dean prods.

“ _Dean_ ,” Sam bitches.

“I get you Sam. I’m working on it,” Dean says, watching as Castiel emerges from the Starbucks, a venti something sugary in his hand and a grin on his lips.

“And I believe you,” Sam agrees, leaning closer to Dean.

Dean gives him a smile, then elbows him in the ribs, “You’re still acting like a girl though, Sammy.”

—

Sam takes off Sunday evening, which is good because both Cas and Dean have to be up for work rather early on Monday morning.

Dean's new job has been going very well. They are a non-profit agency that does work for other non-profits. He likes the fact that they have clients much as they did at his previous job. He likes the fact that they are working for a variety of different organizations that are trying to do good in different ways.

He likes the fact that the guy he's working with, Benny, is friendly and easy-going. Benny consistently tells Dean when Dean is doing things correctly. He observes when Dean goes above and beyond and thanks to Dean for working hard. 

He likes the open office space, with people chatting and sitting at big conference tables instead of blocky cubicles. He likes that it's in an office north-west of the loop. Even though he has to take a bus now, it's technically closer to home.

He likes that he starts at 9, so he doesn’t have to get up until 7:30. If he gets up at 7, he gets to kiss Cas before Cas leaves for work. He likes that when he gets home every day, Cas is already there, barefoot and relaxing after work.

Dean uses his old skills in new ways and develops new skills through workshops.

His manager reminds him that he doesn't need to be working through the tasks as quickly as he has been. She tells Dean his work has been exemplary so far and asks how he would feel about taking some online certification courses so he can be more hands on. It’s the first time Dean has ever been spoken to about not over-working himself by someone within a job. 

His manager smiles and gives him a mini lecture on preventing work-place burnout and creating jobs that are fulfilling to the employee. She also tells him that she'll look into getting a parking pass for the Impala so Dean doesn't have to take the bus. 

So yeah. Dean really fucking likes his new job.

—

Dean and Cas start having sex again. At first, not in the way that they had previously, but now at least they're doing the slow fucking thing instead of the slow (but hot) foreplay only. Cas is honestly nervous to push Dean further than he's ready for. 

Cas is gentle and full of praise for Dean. Castiel can tell it’s actually kind of difficult for Dean— when Dean is a bit sub-spacey it's far easier for him to take kind words.

Castiel fucks Dean slow and long from behind, hands at Dean's stomach and lips whispering praise for Dean's body into his ears. Dean trembles and blushes, but Castiel gets him to come.

Dean is pushy though. He gets out their collection of toys to clean while Castiel is around, his eyes innocent. He rides Cas roughly one evening. He gets on his knees in the shower to blow Cas when he knows damn well it’s one of their rules that Dean doesn't kneel on hard surfaces. Usually, Cas would put Dean over his knee for pushing one of their rules. Instead, he pulls Dean up and presses him into the wall to rut against Dean's ass until he comes, then leaves Dean hanging until they are dried off and in bed.

He wants to get back to their usual dynamic, of course. That's not even a question. He just feels strange with the idea of shifting back into a power dynamic that requires so much trust when Dean is feeling like he can't trust anything right now.

Cas can tell that Dean is itching for it one Friday.

That morning they woke up wrapped together, Dean hot and hard against Cas' hip. Cas let his hips roll a few times to hear Dean's sleepy breathless moans. Then Cas left the bed to get them coffee, smiling at Dean's small groan of discontent. 

Dean was twitchy and energetic during breakfast, hurrying with things to do before work. Cas gives him a long wet kiss as he runs out the door.

At the end of the day, Dean walks in, eyes bright and tie loose around his neck. Castiel, already home from work, watches him kick off his shoes from the couch where he is watching TV. He thinks how lucky he is that his husband comes home looking like _that._ Dean is slim-waisted, clean-shaven, and toned. In a tie and dress pants, eyes green and skin freckled. Cas' mouth waters.

Dean heads upstairs to change, then comes down in soft sweatpants and a threadbare t-shirt, throwing himself against Castiel and down onto the couch. Cas makes a little "oof", then chuckles, scratching his nails through Dean's hair and down his back. Dean shivers at this, face pressed into Castiel's chest.

Dean noses into Cas, lips parting to mouth at Cas' nipples through his t-shirt wetly.

Castiel watches him carefully with dark eyes. He can tell what Dean wants— he's giving all the signals that would normally have Castiel ordering him around or trussing him up already.

Cas wonders if he is allowed to bring it up. Is Dean ready for that? Is Dean able to consent to whether he's ready for that at this point? Is it fair to Dean that Castiel is dying to start again?

Dean looks up and abruptly ends Castiel's thoughts by whispering, "How come you won't touch me?"

Castiel frowns, "I'm touching you right now."

"You know what I mean," Dean mumbles, looking away.

Castiel nods and pauses, "I do."

Dean sets his chin on Castiel's chest, eyeing him. He settles his hips down so they're flush with Cas', Dean resting in-between Cas' spread thighs.

"Did I fuck that up?" Dean wonders aloud.

Castiel's eyebrows pull together, "Why would you think that? No, you haven't fucked anything up."

"Then why aren't you touching me?" Dean presses

"Are you in a good place for that?" Cas asks, words careful.

Dean snorts, "A good place to feel like I'm being good? A good place to y'know, reaffirm that you want me? Always."

"I want you whether you're doing what I tell you in bed or not, Dean," Cas reminds him.

"Yeah. Still feels good that way though."

Castiel nods, his hands resuming their slow scratch at Dean's back.

"I think it'd be good maybe. To reconnect and stuff," Dean says hesitantly.

"To reconnect?" Cas asks, confused. He felt like they were pretty well connected.

"Laura says sex can be good for that," Dean mutters.

Cas laughs a little at this, "You're talking to Laura about our sex life?"

Dean frowns, "Y-yeah. Like not in detail or anything. I was just..."

Cas raises his eyebrows in question.

"...worried about it, I guess," Dean winces as he admits it.

Cas feels a weird mix of guilt and fondness flitter through him. Of course, Dean is worried—Cas should have realized that slow could come across incorrectly, especially with Dean being uncertain about his worth. He leans forward and kisses Dean on the forehead. 

"I am sorry, Dean. I should have been communicating with you more clearly," Cas tells him, "Do not doubt that I want to scene with you. I am just trying to gauge what you are up for."

"I'm up for it," Dean rushes to say.

"And I want to make sure that you're not just saying that because you know it will please me."

Dean rolls his eyes, "I like to please you. Isn't that like, kinda the whole point?"

Cas hums and corrects, "Things that please the both of us."

He punctuates the correction with a squeeze of Dean's ass.

"I just want things to go back to normal. I want us to be back to normal," Dean admits.

"They are, Dean. I really do think things are much better now. I guess I was just as uncertain about where we stood as well. I assumed you would come to me, much as you have now."

Dean grins at this, "So, what do you say?" He pushes his hips back into Castiel's hands, "Should we have some fun?"

Cas laughs at this, "I have nothing planned. What do you have in mind? I want to be sure we are not walking into any surprises."

"Well I know I want you to fuck me," Dean says eagerly, not wasting any time, "And you know I like to get roughed up a bit. Or held down."

Castiel hums in agreement: he does know these things.

"So, what exactly are you suggesting?" Castiel asks evenly.

Dean's shrug is the only invitation Cas needs to lean in and mouth his words so close to Dean's neck that he can see gooseflesh rise.

"You want me to order you upstairs? Tell you to get naked and on your knees on our bed?"

Cas is sure Dean's eyes have peeled open with surprise and arousal.

"Follow you upstairs and drag my fingernails from your shoulders to your ankles, hard enough to leave marks? Flip you so you're on your stomach and get those pretty lips around my dick where they belong? Tell you exactly how to prep yourself so you're ready for me."

Castiel watches as Dean's tongue flicks out to wet his lips, his head bobbing a wordless _yes_. 

"Carry you to the wall, get your hands tied to the beam, and spread you so I can get a taste too."

Dean verbally says, "Yes," this time, his voice thick and his hips easing up towards Cas as a form of evidence.

"Fuck you until you get the wall all messy?" Castiel breathes finally.

Or, Cas would have said more if Dean hadn't met his lips for an openmouthed kiss, tongue wet and demanding in his mouth. They're quite good at this— kissing. Cas would go as far as to say that they have become experts. Cas knows that Dean likes him to bite against Dean's lips, to push their tongues so their teeth drag against them. Dean is aware of the way Cas shivers when Dean sucks a little on Castiel's tongue. Dean knows that Cas likes it so that his lips are slotted below Dean's.

Eventually, Cas brings his hands up to Dean's cheeks and forces Dean to pull away. Cas can't bring himself to break the kiss himself, so he moves Dean where he needs him, "Dean," he breathes.

Dean blinks down at him, eyes bright, lips wet and plush. 

"Go upstairs and strip. On the bed, hands and knees," Cas commands, his voice rough with arousal.

Dean's lips part and he nods once, getting up to follow Castiel's orders.

He gives Dean a minute to get undressed, thinking through what he plans to do in his head. The planning dynamic of this has always been part of what makes it so good for Cas. He follows steps and gives orders clearly and carefully, reorienting himself all the way.

He makes his way up the stairs to their bedroom and enters without pause. Dean is carefully arranged at the center of the bed, head down and invitingly nude.

Castiel stops at the closet to grab for a few pairs of silicon handcuffs and a bottle of lube. He goes to the wall of their room, where there is a bar that has been mounted at about Cas' height. Dean did some research and installed it himself, making sure it could take up to 300 lbs. Sometimes they hang a few bags from it so it's not just “the sex-bar”.

Cas connects one end of both pairs of cuffs at a good few foot's lengths from one another. He wants to have everything go smoothly when he finally gets Dean here.

He double-checks that the lube he has isn't the one that he hates having in his mouth. Cas doesn't love the flavor of lube most of the time and he likes having access to wherever he wants to put his mouth. This brand is one of the few that doesn't bother him—but also is one they shouldn't use when they're using silicone toys.

Cas makes his way over to Dean, noticing how he is a little tense. Cas trails a hand down to his stomach, feeling as Dean tightens his muscles there out of some insecurity. This touch is usually a good indicator of how Dean is doing—not that Cas will ever tell Dean this.

"You okay?" Cas asks him. It could be worse, Dean could flinch or pull awau.

Dean nods.

"Words, Dean," Cas commands.

"Yes sir."

Cas believes him. He hums in approval, making his way around the bed to take a look at Dean carefully, appraising.

Dean's put on some healthy weight since things have gotten better, filled out the spots on his cheeks that had started to look hollow. His complexion is brighter, and he's had a haircut. Castiel feels relief when he recognizes that Dean looks much like he did before any of this shit went down.

"Gorgeous," Cas tells him, as Dean slowly relaxes his muscles, letting his head hang.

Cas grips Dean's ankles, tugging him back a some so that his knees spread wider.

Dean quivers. Cas runs his thumbnails up the arch of both of Dean's feet, punctuating in the sensitive middle with a dig of his thumb. He eyes how Dean's body reacts to this, remembering his promise to add a slight scratch. Cas gets his hands up to Dean's lower thighs, grips with big hands then pulls Dean so he is on his stomach on the bed.

Dean makes a little "oof," uncertainly trying to prop himself up.

"Hands at your sides," Castiel commands.

Dean obeys immediately, relaxing as Cas scratches his fingers against his hips.

"Hmm, very good," Cas praises, moving up the bed to kneel over Dean's lower back, giving him the leverage.

Cas rubs his fingers at the wings of Dean's shoulder blades a few times, before getting his nails hooked in his back and dragging down. The sensation makes Dean hiss, and Cas can see the white, some red, trail of nails as it follows down over his ass cheeks and down to his calves.

Cas decides to go over the scratches a few times for good measure, digging in deeper and deeper as he watches Dean respond to the feeling. Cas knows well that scratches walk the pain-pleasure border that Dean has flawlessly aligned.

He scratches over Dean's ass with his full hand again, enjoying how it pinks up around the marks. He slides a gentle hand down to where Dean is hard against the fabric of their bedspread. He isn't surprised.

"You like this, do you?" Cas feigns curiosity.

"Yeah," Dean says quietly.

"What was that?" Cas questions.

"Yes, I like that," Dean agrees, like he's reciting something.

"What is it you like?" Cas presses, hoping to get him more vocal. 

Dean takes a breath, "I like it when you dig your nails a little. Like that it burns afterward. And I like—" Dean cuts off as Cas resumes his torture.

"You like?"

"I like that you're leaving a mark on me."

Cas grips his nails harder than he meant to at this admission, his nails scraping up a layer of skin and drawing some blood on Dean's ass.

Cas hesitates at this, freezing when Dean's hips jerk forward, away from the sharp sensation.

Cas looks up fearfully to where Dean's face is, but finds Dean's eyes looking back, dark and wide, lip bit. He realizes suddenly that the jerk of hips was less about getting away from the pain, and more about Dean grinding his dick into the mattress.

"Hey," Cas says sharply, "Did I tell you that you could do that?" 

Dean's face flushes red, shaking his head no.

Cas grabs at the scruff of his neck, yanking his hair and pressing his lips to Dean's hair, "Don't fucking try to take your own pleasure. That's mine."

Dean shivers and chokes out a, "Yes sir."

Cas eases off him, admiring his work, "Now. I thought you were going to suck me?"

Dean turns his head, looking up and nodding eagerly, "Where do you want me?"

Cas considers, "On the bed on your sto..." His words falter as he sees the disappointment in Dean's eyes.

"Ah, I see. On your knees?" Cas asks.

Dean lets his cheek rest on the bed, blushing hard again.

"That's fine with me. You'll need a pillow." 

Again, the rule is, Dean kneels on soft things if he wants to be on the ground. Too many injuries from his past and his already weak knee joints make Castiel worry. After the time Dean shattered his kneecap in that car accident when they were younger... Castiel avoids having his husband's knees on the hard ground.

Dean grabs the pillow hear his face, raising his hips up so they press against Cas in his haste to get down to the floor.

Dean lets Cas take the pillow and position it below them. He lets a hand on his spine guide him to his knees. Dean looks up at Cas, hands on the floor and legs folded. 

He is truly something to behold, tan against the white pillow. Lips spit slicked and eyes glittering and wide. His lashes are long as he blinks up at Castiel, waiting for his next instruction like there is nowhere he'd rather be. 

Cas swears under his breath, scooting so he's got a thigh on either side of Dean's shoulders, left hand cupping Dean's cheek while the right gropes blindly behind him for the discarded bottle of lube.

"Fuck, you are so beautiful," Cas praises, scratching a little at Dean's bottom lip, "Get my dick out."

Dean nods without question. He reaches up, picking at the button on Cas' jeans and then easing down the zipper. Cas scoots so Dean can pull his jeans down to his knees. Dean doesn't go for Cas' boxers yet, leaning forward to nose at his cock. His lips part to mouth down at the base, where Cas is sure he smells of sweat. He's been wearing these boxers all day. Dean makes eye contact, holding it as he waits for Cas to correct Dean's behavior.

Cas knows he should be quicker to scold—Dean wasn't supposed to linger on the underwear—but it's hard to remember that sort of thing when Dean Winchester is getting his boxers damp with spit.

"Off," Cas says gruffly, lifting his hips to help.

Dean makes that little pouty-lipped frown, but gently slides Cas' boxers down too, pulling them to his ankles. 

This leaves Castiel in just his t-shirt, cock hard and rosy against his stomach.

"Give me your hands," Cas commands.

Dean lifts his hands to rest on Cas's knees. Cas flips them palm up and clicks open the lube to put a generous amount in one.

Dean quirks an eyebrow, glancing at Cas' dick. Dean doesn't mind the taste of lube, but it certainly isn't needed for a good blowjob.

"Use just your mouth. You've got until I get close to get yourself prepped. Can you handle that?" 

"I've got that," Dean breathes.

"Dean," Cas asks, "Are you okay? I am checking in."

Dean smiles, "Yeah, Cas. I'm all good."

Castiel watches as Dean shifts his knees out further to spread himself and get a hand behind him. Cas keeps an eye on where Dean puts his hands, intending to tell Dean not to reach for his own cock, but thinking maybe he won't have to.

Dean makes it hard to pay attention as he leans down and licks over the head of Castiel's dick, his mouth wet with spit. Dean lets spit drip down, chasing it with his lips as he eases down Cas's dick.

Pretty soon Dean's made a rhythm. He's got a hand behind him, pressing fingers into himself, and another balancing himself against the bed. His hips twitch with the curls of his fingers in pace of the bobs of his mouth around Cas. He doesn't reach for his own cock once.

"Fuck, Dean."

Cas has one had in Dean's hair, the other on the bed, gripping the sheets at the sensations. Dean pulls back occasionally, but only to suck down across the head again. Castiel twitches. It isn't often that he lasts for more than a few minutes when Dean is blowing him.

Dean is winding down into sub-space, and Cas can tell. He's pushing back into his fingers, unconsciously thrusting forward for nonexistent friction without care. He's relaxed his jaw and throat to let Cas in deep, tonging at him, his eyes blinking open to look up at Cas with that _fuck-me_ gaze.

Dean's hand that's providing some extra stability makes it up to Cas' thigh, trying to lift Cas up and into Dean's mouth. Cas makes a little groan, following Dean's suggestion and rocking his hips forward to chase the slick of Dean's lips. Dean relaxes further and lets Cas fuck into his mouth, hitting the delicious curve of his throat on the third or fourth thrust.

Dean's spit slips from his lips, Cas watching with heated eyes. Dean hums around him in contentment, making Cas' hips jerk lazily, moaning.

Dean's cock is dripping from where Castiel can see it. Cas can tell that with about a dozen rough thrusts would get him coming down Dean's throat. He doesn't want this yet, but he's also uncertain that Dean has himself prepped well enough. 

Castiel reminds himself that he intends to get his tongue up Dean's ass in mere minutes, so it won't matter much.

With this thought Cas eases Dean's head back with his hands, guiding him back and pulling his hair gently. Dean sucks so his lips pull off with a wet-pop noise.

"Christ, Dean," Cas groans at the too-tight feeling. He fists Dean's hair tighter.

Dean's eyelashes flutter, lips parted as he fucks back onto his fingers, his only point of contact with Cas the hands in his hair.

Cas grabs at his chin haphazardly, pointing Dean to make eye contact.

Oh yeah. Dean is good and floaty, his pupils blown wide and his expression slack.

"Up," Cas commands, patting his thighs.

Dean goes up, climbing up on Cas, all hot-skin and knees and elbows. Their dicks press together at the positioning, Dean's hands balancing on Cas' still clothes shoulders.

Dean taps at his shoulder, eyes questioning. Their faces are so close.

"You can speak," Cas allows.

"Can I take this off?" Dean requests, pulling at the cotton fabric.

Cas smiles warmly, "Of course. Thank you for asking, my good boy." 

Dean blushes under the praise, reaching to the hem of Cas' shirt and tugging it up the back. Once it is off, Cas' skin can press hot to Dean's. Cas eases his hands under Dean's ass, arms hooking under his legs to get a good grip. 

He stands and hoists Dean up at the same time. Dean easily slides his legs around Cas, arms at his neck as Cas walks them across the room. Castiel knows Dean has something for being carried. His twitching dick proves it. Cas presses Dean's back to the wall just under the bar, keeping Dean's legs around his waist and meeting his lips for a kiss. 

Dean kisses back playfully, reaching up to grab at the bar like he's going to do a pull-up— except for the fact that Cas' got him. 

Cas brings his hands up to the bar and guides Dean's hands to the cuffs, his back still flat to the wall. This position is going to be perfect. 

Cas breaks the kiss to fiddle with the cuffs and command Dean, "Check to see if your feet can touch."

Cas is almost sure they can, but it soothes him to observe Dean unwrap one leg to firmly plant a foot with some extra room. 

"Good. Leg back up," Cas says roughly, getting his hands back to holding Dean, "If you feel any numbness, pain, tingling, heat in your arms, I expect you to tell me immediately." 

"The cuffs aren't that tight, don't worry about it," Dean says reassuringly. 

Cas raises his eyebrows and Dean's teeth click as he closes his mouth quickly. 

Cas is stern when he speaks, "I am going to be careful with you, whether you think it is needed or not. I didn't think it was up to you to call the shots."

"Yes sir. I'm sorry," Dean chews his bottom lip, looking like he feels worse than his tone inclines. 

An apology is more than good enough. Cas kisses at Dean's jaw, working his way forward. He puts his hands on Dean's ass and lets his nails dig back into the flesh they've already scratched at earlier. He strokes a finger through the lube that sits slick around Dean's opening. 

Eventually, Cas drops to the floor, grabbing for their earlier pillow and settling at Dean's feet. He hikes Dean's left foot up while Dean yelps, putting Dean's foot up on his shoulder and tilting Dean's hips forward. 

Cas mouths at Dean's balls, thumbing down to where Dean's prepped. 

Cas licks down past Dean's taint, working towards his hole, mouth flooding with saliva at the thought. 

"Cas?" Dean asks. 

Cas gets a hand up on Dean's dick (finally) and starts to jack him slow with dry friction, quieting Dean's question into a moan. 

Cas' lips reach Dean's hole, his tongue tentatively pressing a lick. 

"Cas, wait," Dean breathes. 

Cas presses in a little, mouth sucking at the sweet opening. 

"Seriously, hang on," Dean is squirming. 

Cas' brain registers Dean's words and he shoots back, holding Dean steady and looking up at him, "Yes Dean? Is everything alright?"

Dean's face is scrunched a little, his posture suddenly tighter, "You don't have to do that," he says softly. 

"Do what?" Cas asks. 

"Rim me. I can take you now."

Cas considers this, "I would like to go down on you, though."

Dean squirms a little.

“What’s wrong, Dean?” Cas presses.

“Wanna make you happy,” Dean admits, biting at his lips and looking away.

“This does make me happy.”

“But you don’t get anything out of it,” Dean mumbles.

Cas pauses, then gets one hand digging into the flesh of Dean’s ass and the other squeezing at his cock so hard that Dean _squeaks_. Cas’ chin rests on Dean’s stomach as he speaks, “Look at me.”

Dean looks.

“Are you uncomfortable with me using my tongue? Besides concern for my enjoyment,” Cas questions.

“No sir,” Dean says evenly, though he’s trembling.

Cas knows Dean is on an odd edge of behaving and falling apart. Castiel wants to walk it like this—to take Dean apart until he cannot figure out if his tears are from pleasure or uncertainty. Then, when Dean is flying on endorphins, Cas will ease him back down with gentle words and touches.

“I am going to continue. If you want me to stop, call your safeword,” Castiel reminds.

Cas resumes his careful press of lips to where Dean has gotten himself already wet and loose. Castiel mouths, tongues, sucks. He mixes spit and lube, his face wet with the combination. He scrapes his teeth against the flesh, letting a finger make its way up to test the give of Dean.

He’s more than prepared.

In fact, Dean is making this very clear from above, little quiet hitches of breaths trailing into hums and groans when Cas nips.

“C-cas,” Dean breathes.

Cas hums against Dean’s hole in question, and Dean’s hips twitch involuntarily.

“I don’t know if I can—fuck. You’ve got to stop or else I’m gonna—” Dean cuts off with a high whine.

Cas pulls back grinning, “I thought you wanted to come?”

“Want you _in_ me,” Dean breathes, spreading his legs wider, his feet trying to get Cas to rise to his feet.

“Mmm. That does sound like a good idea,” Cas teases, rising at Dean’s insistence and gathering his thighs to press him against the wall. Cas wipes his wet face at the back of his elbow and surges forward to kiss Dean.

Cas gets Dean pressed so he is back to the wall, arms still tied and thighs tucked between Cas and his own chest. His ankles cling to Cas’ lower back. He’s fully supported by Castiel, held helpless. Cas reaches up to check the cuffs, making sure that Dean’s weight isn’t pressing his skin into them. Then Cas eases a hand down, scraping at Dean’s nipples, and fisting his own dick to line him up with Dean.

He checks Dean’s face for signs of discomfort as he eases in. Dean is wet and stretched, and the angle is quite good. Cas’ first thrust is easy and smooth, without any of the burn that Dean usually takes time to relish in. Castiel knows that this will likely disappoint Dean, but he also relishes in the way that Dean’s body just opens for him.

Cas holds at Dean’s thighs and fucks into him without any sort of preamble. He presses as deep as he can go in, observing as Dean huffs and arches his back in response. Cas pulls back and thrusts in punishingly, setting a rhythm that catches Dean off guard with its speed.

Dean has no control over the speed, the angle, any of it. He can’t do a thing about the way his dick only gets friction against their stomachs on every few thrusts. He cannot control how Cas sinks his teeth into Dean’s nipples. He can only sit there and whine.

“F-fuck, Cas, fuck,” Dean breathes.

Cas catches his lips for a kiss, lowering Dean’s hips and letting the thrusts become more languid—smooth and punching at the end. He rocks Dean against him, trying to get persistent pressure against Dean’s prostate.

Castiel suddenly realizes he is right on the edge of an orgasm. It is rushing at him with surprising gusto. Cas has to let go of one of Dean’s hips to get a hand around the base of his cock—but in the process some of Dean’s weight shifts to the left cuff that is holding Dean to the bar. To catch the weight, Cas steps forward into his next thrust, pinning Dean roughly to the wall and slamming into his prostate off rhythm.

“Uh-hh,” Dean’s breath comes out in harsh pants, his body quivering as he deals with the sensations. His eyes are hooded.

“Fuck, Dean, I am not going to last long,” Cas admits into Dean’s neck, licking at his jaw. He eases his hips back.

“M-me neither,” Dean agrees, wiggling his ass.

“Ok,” Cas decides with a huff, pulling his hips back, scooting Dean up the wall and shoving back in.

It only takes about fifteen more thrusts before Cas comes. He’s watching Dean lose it, helpless, and he’s buried deep in him. Dean’s little whimpers have him whispering, “Good boy, good boy.” Cas’ vision whites out helplessly and he has to bite into Dean’s shoulder.

The bite, combined with Cas’ rough thrusts vault Dean closer, but Cas’ demanding hand on his dick is what has Dean shaking and spraying between them. Cas jerks him through it, thumbing at the head and sucking on Dean’s neck. Dean has his lip between his teeth as he chokes out moans.

Cas’ thrusts slow as they come down, just lazy rolls of hips to feel where Dean is now sloppy wet. He uses where he has Dean pinned to hold him while he reaches up and frees Dean’s hands. He checks both wrists, then eases his arms down to prevent the shock of blood rushing into them.

“Gotta hold on, sweetheart,” Cas presses, hooking Dean’s arms around his neck.

Dean obeys, tightening his ankles and pulling himself snug to Cas’ chest.

Cas hums his approval and lifts Dean from the wall, hands under his ass. He walks them the short distance to the bed, post orgasm clarity making him think of all the things he needs to get to take care of Dean.

He wipes at the come on Dean’s stomach, getting him mostly clean so he can rest Dean face down on the bed. Cas reaches for the baby wipes in their side table, cleaning the mess of his hands and himself. He cleans up Dean’s backside, swiping away come and lube and spit. Dean twitches, sensitive as Cas cleans some off his balls.

Cas flips Dean and gathers him to his chest, pulling the covers up to keep them warm. Sometimes, when Dean is coming down, he’ll get a little chilly.

“How are you doing?” Castiel asks Dean, looking him over.

“G-good. How did I do?” Dean asks, his voice a little slow.

Cas chuckles, “You did very well. Are you sore?”

“Mmm, not right now. Feel good,” Dean tells him.

“I hope you feel that way when you come down too. I sorta lost my grip on you there for a moment,” Cas tells him, “I apologize.”

“Noo,” Dean slurs, “Don’t apologize. Liked it.”

Cas laughs again, “Let’s nap for a bit. We can get up for dinner in a half hour.”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees happily, snuggling into Cas’ side.

Cas breathes in the scent of Dean’s hair, reaching for his phone and setting a timer for thirty minutes. He places an order at the local Thai place for delivery, and then fixes his focus on Dean.

— 

Dean groans. He hates Cas’ stupid afterglow-wrecking alarm. It makes a cheerful chirping tune as it alerts them of their post-coital nap’s end.

Cas punches the _stop_ button and eases his fingers through Dean’s hair.

“I have Thai food that’s going to be delivered in a few minutes. We should head downstairs. How are you feeling?” Cas asks.

Dean nuzzles his nose into Cas’ neck, “I’m awesome. I fucking needed that.”

Cas chuckles, “I’m glad. I will admit I had been missing it as well.”

Dean sits up, taking account of the spots that feel different. His shoulders burn a little as he moves them. His back and ass feel raw with scratches where he touches the sheets. His hips are a bit stiff.

He rolls his shoulders and Cas’ eyes and hands are on him in an instant.

“How are your shoulders? We had your hands above your head for a long time,” Cas says. It sounds level, but Dean knows these check-ins are the moments that make or break whether Cas comes out of this level-headed or dom-drop-y.

“Not painful, just tight. It would be weird if they weren’t,” Dean reassures.

“Let me take care of them?” Cas says casually, but his eyes burn with guilt, and Dean nods without hesitation.

Cas ends up possessively dressing Dean in his clothes before feeding Dean chicken Pad Thai with a fork. Then he tries to ease Dean’s muscles by massaging his back and cracking his spine. They end up in a shared shower, lingering under the hot water together as Dean comes down from his headspace, and Cas becomes reassured that Dean is safe and sated.

Dean pushes Cas’ hair back under the spray of the shower and meets him for a sweet kiss.

“I love you,” he speaks against his lips.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> p.s. if you wanna feel fucked up while reading this section, loop Bon Iver’s “Babys” and read! That’s what I listened to while I wrote!
> 
> I know Dean’s birthday is in January but for the sake of GrillMaster!Dean, this is occurring.

—  
  
Dean is having a good week. 

After their scene last Friday, he and Cas have gotten far raunchier in bed. Once he had taken account of everywhere Dean was sore and checked in with him way too many times, Cas had relaxed. As a result, Dean's head is clearer than it's been in _months,_ his body deliciously sore and marked with hickeys and scratches. 

His clear head translates into his work. He just got back feedback for his and Benny's proposal and it had been gushing with excitement for their next steps. Their manager was impressed that Dean had been able to directly apply some of the things he learned at the last workshop.

He comes home with a couple of avocadoes that he picked up so they can have vegan burrito bowls for dinner (well vegan for Cas. Dean is putting cheese on his, damn it!). He's humming to himself as he unloads his bag in the kitchen.

"Cas?" Dean shouts up the stairs. He knows Cas is home because his shoes are at the door.

He doesn't get a response. Dean kinda-really wants to make out with his husband right now, so he peeks around the main level for him. 

No sign of Cas.

Dean jogs up the stairs, humming a Metallica song to himself.

Cas isn't in their bedroom.

"Cas?" Dean calls again, tone verging on concern. Where is Castiel if he isn't downstairs or up?

Dean hears a soft noise coming from what they're assuming will be Jack's room. He follows the sound, worriedly thinking it sounds like someone in distress. 

Jack's room is blue-gray with a fresh coat of paint. The bed has a striped gray IKEA quilt and the walls have four carefully organized frames with stock pictures. There is a bookcase that Cas has painted blue, and a little ocean themed night light that's plugged into the wall. 

Dean is right— it's Cas. Cas is sat so his back is up against the wood post on the corner of Jack's soon to be bed, and he's got his head between his knees. He's breathing harshly, his body shuttering with exertion. 

Dean is across the room in a moment, calling out to Cas. 

Dean's seen this before, obviously. Like the night Dean woke up alone. Or the morning before their wedding. Or the week before a big exam or work presentation. Castiel has always been the one to think ahead, to plan. It's easy to be regarded as one of his talents— he is organized and careful. It is harder to remember that it can be one of Castiel's flaws. 

As much as Cas likes things just so, sometimes he can't have them that way. And when planning doesn't go far enough, Cas tends to slip. 

"Hey there, Angel," Dean murmurs, "Can I get close to you?"

Castiel shakes his head no. That's ok with Dean. Sometimes Cas needs some space. 

"You want some water?" Dean asks. 

Another no. 

"Should I keep chatting at you?" Dean suggests. This often helps. Distracts Cas, grounds him. 

Cas nods, still tucked between his knees and quaking. 

"Okay, yeah. I can do that. Let me know if you need anything. I'll keep checking in," Dean reassures. 

"Had a good day at work today. Arla is super excited about the project Benny and I have been proposing— I think it's going to pay off. And I'm actually excited about it."

Dean keeps the content positive. Cas' breaths remain short and quick. 

"Been feeling much better since we scened. Clearer head, more focused. I haven't been so worried about us, either. I know you're not upset with me, and that makes me less nervous. I love you. Thank you for letting us do that..."

Reaffirm care. Remind Castiel of how important he is. Cas starts to relax— but only a little. 

"Thinking about going to get more groceries before this weekend. I know you have a list made up of meal stuff, but I also wanna make my own trip and get some meat to grill. I think brats would be good for one of the nights you have me cooking, yeah?"

Plan ahead. Cas' breathing has slowed down. Dean keeps talking.

"Hey, Angel, I'm checking in. Can I get closer now?" Dean asks after a while. 

"Please," Cas whispers. 

Dean slowly crawls towards Cas, reaching out to rest a hand warm on his shoulder. Cas leans into the touch. Dean works Cas' shoulders up so his head comes free of the space between his knees. 

"This okay?" Dean asks, guiding Cas' head to his chest. 

Cas nods. 

Dean runs a solid hand up and down Cas' back to his waist, easing the other into his hair. 

The toughest part about these attacks is that Dean is always left dying to know what caused it. He wants to jump at the problem with claws and protect his husband. The catch is that Castiel is already so anxious thinking about it alone that it made him panic. If Dean pushes him to make it a conversation, Castiel could very well end up reversing right back into panic mode. Plus, after an attack, Cas is usually already panicking about having another one. There's no reason to add to the anxiety. 

At the same time, the only way to ensure that this doesn't make Cas panic again is to get him to work through it. This usually means talking about it.

So, they'll wait a while. Dean will speak of pleasant things and cuddle Cas close on the floor. 

Cas trembles against Dean for a few more minutes. He's breathing steadily, but these things tend to last at least ten minutes, if not a half hour. 

"Shh, sweetheart, I've gotcha," Dean tells him, trying to spread the warmth of his hands everywhere he can reach. 

"W-what if we can't do it?" Cas croaks. 

Dean instantly grips him tighter. Cas isn't even out of the weeds yet and he's pushing to talk. 

"Are you sure you wanna be talking about stuff right now?" Dean asks carefully. 

" _Dean,_ Ihave no idea how to parent. I've never been responsible for a child, much less a teenager," Cas' words are rushed. He's freaking out. 

Dean tries to ground him, "Easy there. That's okay, Cas. There isn't a good way to practice this stuff."

"I need to take a parenting class. I want to make sure they love it here, that they feel safe after everything they've been through. We're going to need to start looking for a doctor for them both and I haven't even looked into taking a CPR class yet," Cas rattles. 

"A CPR class? Cas, you do not need to take a CPR class."

"What if one of them chokes? Or drowns! I need to be trained to know what to do if that happens. It's my responsibility— they're my responsibility I've got to—"

Dean pulls Cas back down towards his knees as he starts to hyperventilate again. 

"Oh Cas," Dean says helplessly, "Why didn't you tell me you were so anxious about this?"

Cas shakes his head, still trying to breathe. Dean already knows why, really. Dean's been so worried about whether Cas wanted this, whether Cas would stay that he's essentially shut down Cas' place to talk this stuff through with Dean. That's what usually helps, going through the steps with someone else. 

Dean sighs, "Angel, I know I've been pretty uncertain lately, but you've gotta tell me when stuff like this builds up. It sucks to see you get this worked up."

Cas shakes violently, but nods. 

"Woah, let's breathe here, okay?" Dean encourages, "In through your nose, out through the mouth."

Cas obeys, sucking air in uncertainly through his nose and then pressing out in huffs through his lips. Dean obnoxiously demonstrates the pattern, trying to get Cas to match his breathing with Dean's. 

They end up curled on the floor for a long time, breathing together. Cas tucks his face into Dean's chest as the anxiety recedes and listens to where his heart beats steadily. Cas has mentioned a few times that the rhythm helps. 

After Dean feels like they're out of the water, he tentatively speaks,

"You are going to be so good at this, you know that? I have seen you be the most gracious and forgiving person I have ever met. I've seen you around kids and with teenagers occasionally. You do amazing. And I know this feels different, because they're yours now, but you are still going to be amazing."

Cas makes a little noise of uncertainty. 

"I know you're going to be amazing because you're so attentive to the stuff that won't even matter to them. Look at where we're sitting. We've got a whole fucking room set up for each of them— you've plans for adventures until we can bring them home. Hell, you bought them goggles so we can all go swimming. Cas, they are going to _love_ it here _._ They're going to love you." 

Cas is quiet for a long while, thinking and breathing deep. 

"Thank you, Dean," He says finally, voice raw. 

"Not a problem. I'm glad you're okay."

"I'm getting there."

Dean's brain sort of— clicks. Cas is having trouble with mental health issues right here right now. Just like Dean has had trouble with some things lately, Cas also struggles. 

What's happened to Dean isn't unusual or bad, it's just human. It's just life. As much as it feels weird to compare himself to anyone, Dean is actually doing pretty well. They've both got some stuff going on, but they're doing pretty well. Dean isn't perfect, but well. Neither is Cas. 

It's at this moment that Dean recognizes that they are more than well enough prepared for what's to come. 

—

Cas and Dean decide to take Claire and Jack somewhere to hang out this week. Dean and Castiel are still not saying anything too permanent to the kids— just in case something falls through. 

They pick up them from Sheila's in the Impala. Jack is practically vibrating with excitement in a t-shirt that looks one size too small. 

Claire is looking a little worse for wear. She looks tired. She's got a couple of bruises on her shins that Dean regards sharply, carefully greeting Claire and giving her a smile. He is going to get this kid feeling safe if it takes his life. 

They take Claire and Jack out to the Museum of Science and Industry. They've never been. 

Jack is fascinated by the Transportation Gallery, pointing out the old planes and listening carefully as Castiel reads some of the captions on the signs.

Claire mostly just looks happy at the fact that Jack is enjoying himself. She finishes her burger off at lunch almost as quickly as Dean does. As Castiel takes Jack to check out the weather exhibit that's ahead of them, Dean tries to talk to Claire. 

"Hey, kid, where'd those bruises come from?" Dean asks. 

In hindsight, maybe not his best move. Claire instantly becomes defensive, brows furrowing, hiding behind her wild blonde hair, "What does it matter?"

Dean takes a deep breath, then tries to ease her nerves by saying, "Don't tell me Sheila did that," he jokes. 

Claire continues to frown but she does seem to back down some. 

"Seriously Claire. Someone do that to you?" He asks a little softer. 

Claire pauses, then finally nods her head a little, "Just some stupid girls at that thing I go to at the library."

Claire has been taking some supplemental classes this summer to make up for the credits she missed when her dad died and they weren't staying somewhere permanent. Dean thinks this is bull— Claire is barely 14! She missed part of 8th fucking grade. So what?

"Why'd they do that?" Dean asks, curious. 

"They're from school. They know, y'know," She says, voice low. 

"Know what?" Dean presses. 

"They know I'm gay. They like— hate it. Probably because they're in the closet themselves, but it's still stupid," Claire explains, watching her feet as they follow along behind Cas and Jack. 

"That's not a good reason to hurt someone," Dean says. 

"You don't get it, Dean. Everyone loves you and Cas. It's not always like that," Claire tells him. 

Dean huffs out a laugh, "Believe me, Claire, I do get it. I'm not telling you that because I think it's not a reason people hurt others, I'm telling you that because it shouldn't be."

Dean stops walking, getting her full attention. He reaches up to point at a scar that runs along his jaw across so it sits into his earlobe, "See this?"

Claire's eyes are calculating, "Yeah."

"My dad. Didn't love the part where I wanted a boyfriend instead."

Claire's bottom lip starts to tremble a little. 

Dean reaches for her, then pauses— he doesn't know what she's comfortable with. 

Claire steps forwards into his hand, leaning into his arm like a weird sort of hug-comfort-thing that feels oddly on brand for Dean. 

"Want you to know it's not okay for people to hurt you. For any reason. You should be allowed to feel safe. Cas and I want you and Jack to feel safe. No matter who you like."

Now Claire just hugs him. She tucks herself into his chest where his arm was already anchored on her shoulder. 

Dean squeezes her quick before letting her go, "If it happens again, call me, okay? You shouldn't be all by yourself after bad stuff happens."

"I've got Jack," Claire says defensively, which Dean gives her a pointed look at. Jack doesn't even seem to know that Claire has been struggling, "Besides, I can't call."

"Why not?" Dean asks. 

"I don't have a phone," Claire says, embarrassed. 

Dean frowns, but opens his mouth with an _ah_ of understanding, "Can you use Sheila's landline?" 

Claire considers. Eventually, she nods slowly, "If I need you, I'll ask Sheila if I can call."

Dean smiles, "That's all I ask. It's an option. Now, let's check out the tornado exhibit before Cas makes us look at plants or something stupid."

Claire grins at this. 

—

Castiel talks all the way home about how intelligent Jack is, how carefully generous Claire is. How sweet and personable the two do them are. Dean can't help but relish in how perfect it is all starting to seem. 

"Did you and Claire talk?" Castiel asks Dean. 

"Yeah, I think we did," Dean says. 

"She okay?" Cas asks. 

"The bruises are from some shitty teens. Don't like that she's gay," Dean explains. 

Cas starts with a shock that quickly eases into concern and a little brow quirk of fury. Claire has become important to Cas, and now he will get worked up at any instance of her trouble. 

"She doesn't have a phone, Cas." 

Cas frowns, "Can we buy her one?"

"We can. But I don't want her to feel like that's a part of her decision to come stay with us. Don't want to make her feel like she's indebted."

Castiel seems to think this is valid, he nods in agreement, "As soon as they move in, we'll get her on the phone plan. She should be able to reach people."

Dean agrees. He's trying to think about their phone plan, but instead, he can't stop thinking about something that's been on his mind lately.

"Cas?" He asks before he can stop himself.

"Yes?" 

"Can I tell you something about my uh— about my dad?" Dean asks.

Castiel looks over at him, his head tilted, "Of course, Dean."

Dean keeps his eyes on the road. He watches as the familiarities of Chicago roll by.

"Got bruises like that on my shins once. Because I fought with him about money."

"From him kicking you?" Cas questions quietly.

Dean shrugs his shoulders tightly. It's basically a yes, "Told him it was his fucking job to be paying our rent, not mine."

Cas is silent, his eyes on Dean, giving Dean time to think and breathe and speak.

"My shins bruise shit easy. I remember being black and blue for _days_ until they got all yellow and green and disgusting. I had to wear pants instead of shorts even though it was fucking hot."

Dean drums his fingers against baby's wheel, "I remember thinking to myself that it wasn't as bad as it could be— at least it wasn't permanent. At least it wasn't Sammy. It's fucked up that I learned to get dressed to cover it up. That's some fucked up shit."

Cas swallows but keeps his gaze steady.

"Some lady saw them. She was my manager at one of my jobs and saw that I had a bunch of really bad bruising. She tried to get me to admit that it was dad and I wouldn't."

Dean remembers the blind panic feeling every time something went wrong, every time someone got to close to all the fucked up stuff in his life. He realizes suddenly that he doesn't feel that panic so much anymore— things are better than they have ever been. He mourns the fact that during that time he could have been feeling safe too.

"It's fucked up, but I wish I could go back and tell that lady the truth. I know I couldn't. I know there was too much on the line, but I swear to god Cas, I'd tell that lady in a heartbeat if I had the chance."

Cas reaches out a hand and hesitates, giving Dean a look as though he's asking consent to touch.

Dean grips Castiel's hand himself, "And if that makes me weaker than I used to be, then I just don't really care."

—

"I had a realization about my Dad this week."

Dean's words actually seem to surprise his therapist. Then again, Dean never brings his father up himself. They always start pleasantly and make the slow slide to the discussion of John. 

"I would like to hear about that," Laura, his therapist tells him. 

Dean takes a deep breath. 

Then he tells Laura all of it. How he finally told Castiel something specific for the first time about his father. He explains Claire's bruises, his own yellowing bruises back in the day. The woman from his job, the way he desperately wished he could go back and speak up for himself and Sammy. 

"I wonder if maybe we could have ended up with someone good like me and Cas," Dean wonders aloud. 

"Maybe you could have," Laura agrees. 

"Did I make the wrong choice? Should I have said something? Did I fuck us up?" Dean wonders, suddenly vulnerable. 

Laura's eyebrows rise and she straightens up, considering. Then she speaks, "Should you have said something? Yes. Did you choose wrong? I don't think it really matters, Dean. You definitely are not fucked up, neither is Sam. And even if you were, you weren't the person calling the shots. You were a child."

"And then a teenager. Then an adult."

"A hard-working, caring teen and adult who experienced trauma from a close family member who you likely loved at that time— or even still now. It isn't fair to yourself or Sam to start comparing your younger self to your current standards. The situation is different now."

Dean has to agree with that. The situation is so different now. 

“Should I be worried that I will end up bein’ my dad?” Dean asks, after a long moment.

“Do you intend to leave these children? Or hurt them?” Laura asks, a little jokingly, because it’s something they both know Dean would never do.

Dean has to smile at this, “Not on purpose. But you know what I mean.”

“I wish I did, Dean. Then I could explain to you easier that you’re not your dad.”

Dean frowns, “Isn’t some of this stuff genetic though? Like I know I’m sarcastic like my dad. Probably depressed like my dad. Why wouldn’t some of his parenting techniques get ‘copy pasted’ too?”

“You are correct, we often are like our parents. We have the same laugh, or the same eating habits. Prone to react in similar ways. But Dean,” She shakes her head, “That doesn’t mean that we _have_ to. It is more than enough that you are considering that you don’t want to be the bad parts of your father.”

There is no way of really telling whether Laura is right about this—no trial period for being a loving and caring parent. He’ll have to just trust that if he wasn’t up for this, someone would have said something. And then do his damned best to be the best human being that Claire and Jack could ever expect for a father figure.

This will have to be good enough for Dean.

—

Dean gets a call on his cell phone the next day while he's at work. He doesn't know the number, but the area code is near Chicago, so he excuses himself from the informal brainstorming session they're having and heads to a hallway that's lined with massive windows. 

"Hello?" He asks. 

"I-is this Dean?" The young female voice says. 

"Claire?" Dean asks, instantly concerned, "Is that you? Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Hi, I'm fine actually, I just wanted to call," Claire's voice is still nervous. 

"Okay, kiddo. What's goin' on?" Dean asks softly. 

"I uh— I saw some paperwork that Sheila left out. Stuff about adoption," Claire admits. 

"Yeah? What did you see?" Dean asks. 

Claire makes a little uncertain noise, "Are you and Cas really going to adopt us? Jack, but me too?" Her voice is so tiny. 

Dean's heart squeezes. It sounds like she can barely believe it like it's not something she ever would have expected. 

"Yeah, kid. We are. Cas and I were gonna come up and ask if you wanted to come with us this weekend, actually," Dean says, voice strong and clear. 

"Really?" Claire says weakly. 

"Yeah. We've got two bedrooms, one for each of you. We live right by the train, I know I told you that. Not too far from the lake. We could go downtown if you wanted, I know you said there's that bookstore down there that you like."

It sounds like Claire is having to take a moment, some muffled noises coming from the speaker. 

Dean gives her time. 

"Is that something that you and Jack want, Claire?" Dean asks, checking. 

"Yes, duh," Claire's answer comes rushing out, "We both want that. Like really bad."

Dean laughs, "That's good to hear. Did you tell Jack already, or do we get to surprise him?" 

"I may have already told him," Claire says sheepishly. 

"That's okay. We're still gonna come up this weekend. If you guys wanted to, uh, pack some bags we could bring them back," Dean says. 

"Can we come to your house?" Claire asks excitedly. 

Dean thinks, "I'll talk to the agent, but yeah, you should be able to. If you guys agree, you'd be moving in the next couple of days anyway. I'm sure Sheila told you that."

"Yeah, but she didn't say to where. I've been stressed as fuck, I wasn't sure if Jack and I were headed to the same place," Claire says, seeming a little exasperated. 

Dean feels a pang if guilt. Yeah. That does sound very stressful. Dean knows that if he and Sammy were on the brink of getting separated he would be a basket case. 

"I'm sorry we didn't tell you sooner," Dean says, as genuinely as he can muster. 

There's a moment before Claire speaks, "It's ok," her voice is quiet. 

"Are you gonna be okay?" Dean asks. 

"Yeah. I should be. _Dad,"_ Claire teases. 

Dean lets out a surprised choke, he was not fucking expecting that, "Geez, Claire, warn me before you drop a bomb like that," he chokes out.

Claire is laughing from the other line, obviously amused, "Sorry, but that's payback."

Dean shakes his head fondly, "You're trouble, you know that?"

"I've been told," Claire says. 

"I like that about you. We'll see you guys Saturday, okay?" 

"Yeah. Saturday," Claire agrees. 

Dean feels like he's flying when he hangs up the phone. 

  
—

The Impala grumbles to a slow stop on the street in front of Sunnyside. 

Dean would usually park in the garage but seeing as they've got a couple of bikes strapped to the top of his car and tons of shit to unload, he decides to park on the street for a little while.

Jack has the door open, racing up the steps before Dean's even out of the car. Jack is bouncing with excitement, a too-big gray Jansport backpack on his shoulders with his important stuff that he refused to pack in a suitcase.

Cas squeezes Dean’s hand, then gets out of the car to follow Jack up the steps.

Dean turns around and looks at Claire, who is looking out the window at their little blue house. Her blonde hair is all over the place and she’s got a split lip from a game of soccer that she and Jack tried to play.

“What do ya think?” Dean asks. He’s actually kind of nervous.

“It’s fucking perfect,” Claire breathes, scooting across the Impala bench seat to push the door near the curb open and get out, not once taking her eyes off the home.

They all make it to the kitchen once bags have been dragged through the front door. Cas gets out cups and a pitcher of awfully bright powdered lemonade which they all drink too fast.

“Oh,” Cas says, remembering something excitedly. He reaches up to the cupboard and grabs out a giant plastic jar, “Sunbutter. I found it at Costco. No more peanut butter in this house.”

Jack grins ear to ear.

A little while later they start to get stuff put away into Claire and Jack’s respective rooms. Dean is helping Claire put up a couple of frames and as she finished putting away an absurd collection of socks.

Claire plops to the floor, looking up all around the room happily, “I like this room.”

“Good,” Dean approves, “I think Jack likes his too.”

Jack has given up on organizing and is getting acquainted with the neighborhood on his bike.

Claire laughs, “Me too. He’s just excited. He likes that you guys have good sidewalks for riding bikes.”

“You aren’t technically supposed to ride your bikes on the sidewalks, you know,” Dean teases.

Claire rolls her eyes.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Dean reaches for the top drawer of the little white wooden desk in the corner of the room, pulling out a sleek box, “This is for you.”

He holds out the unopened iPhone to Claire who stares at him like he’s grown a second head.

“There’s rules though, okay? Once school starts I expect you to have it plugged in by a reasonable time. You can’t brag about it to Jack, either, I don’t want him to get jealous, but I think he’s still too young for a phone. I think we’ll make a rule that he’ll get one once he’s in middle school, but I just don’t think he needs—”

Dean is cut off from his rambling by Claire slamming into his chest with a hug.

Dean laughs in surprise, hugging her back.

“Thanks,” She says, her face squished, “You seriously didn’t have to do that. It could have been a flip phone.”

Dean gasps in mock offense, “But then how will you take selfies?”

Claire’s eye roll could take Sam’s on in a fight and probably win.

—

It’s been a month since Claire and Jack moved in.

They go through cocoa puffs and fruit really fast. And that’s seriously the only bad part.

Dean drops Claire off at the local library to do the supplemental classes on his way to work twice a week. Those days, Jack goes with to hang out and check out books. Since the library is near the train station, they use some cash that Dean gives them to get home. They both have keys now, and Dean trusts them on the CTA. They’re north of the loop, so as long as they stick together and its midday, Dean and Cas have decided they aren’t too worried. Claire is already comfortable with public transit. Hell, Dean had taken the CTA alone when he was in first grade.

On the days when Claire doesn’t have to be in her class, they just hang out at home. They both have bikes, so they bike around the neighborhood and get icecream sometimes. They have mastered the art of Netflix and Cas set up Sam’s old shitty Wii for them to play Lego games.

They both say please and thank you. Claire often reminds Jack to pick up after himself. When Dean or Cas have to put their feet down, the siblings are always more sheepish than whiny.

Jack admits one night when he bounces off to his room that it’s his “safe place”, and Dean has to pretend that the comment doesn’t make his eyes get watery

Dean takes quite a few days off here and there too. His job is happy to accommodate, his manager getting all gooey eyed when she heard that he and Cas had adopted. Dean takes them to Chinatown to their favorite noodle place for lunch. Jack gets broth absolutely everywhere. Dean takes them to the zoo, on walks. They just… sit on the couch and chat sometimes.

Claire interrupts a FaceTime call with Sam and Jess and ends up hitting it off with both. Dean carefully asks if Claire would think it was cool to fly out to California to visit Sam and his partners. Claire practically loses it with excitement – “California? Hell yes!”

They swim at night in Lake Michigan after Cas gets home from work. They go to farmers markets and buy fruit and veggies. Dean tries to show Claire how to cook. Jack sticks two green beans up his nose during dinner and Cas laughs so hard he falls out of his chair.

Each passing day Dean can feel them settling into _family._

He’s so fucking happy.

One night, after the kids are in their rooms, after he’s brushed his teeth and he’s waiting for Cas in bed, he realizes that he’s finally figured something out.

When Cas gets into bed, Dean scoots so he’s laying right up against him, peering up at him.

“Hello,” Cas greets, glancing down at Dean as he shifts around to get comfortable.

Dean grins at him, “Hi there.”

Cas smiles back slowly, “What are you all happy about?”

Dean shakes his head a little, like he’s not even sure himself, “Nothin’. I just—I get it now.”

Cas brushes a hand through Dean’s hair, “Get what?”

“Claire and Jack. There’s really nothing the two of them could do to make me love them less.”

Cas makes a soft noise, tilting his head a little. Dean flips to his stomach, perching his chin on Cas’ chest.

“Like the other day, Jack busted up the coffee table on accident and I didn’t even really give a damn. I swear, they could come home covered in tattoos or with a sugar daddy and I would still do anything to make them happy.”

Cas is smiling gently.

“And that’s what makes it unconditional,” Dean finishes.

Cas’ eyes widen a fraction as he realizes what Dean is finally figuring out. His lips part a little, letting out some air. It seems like he’s going to speak, but instead he just leans forward to press a soft kiss to Dean’s forehead.

He holds it there for a while, breathing against Dean and tapping his nose to Dean’s hair.

“Cas?” Dean asks softly.

“Yeah,” Cas replies, voice rough.

“I love you like that too. Unconditional.”

—

**2 Years Later**

Dean is digging through the fridge. Behind the leftovers, through the condiments, around Cas’ cans of sparkling water. On top of an alarmingly large container of sliced watermelon.

“Uh, Cas sweetheart?” Dean shouts.

“Yeah?” Cas yells from up the stairs where he’s changing.

“Did you buy ground beef?”

There is a long silence.

“Fuck!” Cas swears from upstairs.

“I can get it,” Claire suggests, coming into the kitchen in a tye-dye t-shirt and some jeans.

“Would you?” Dean asks, relived, “You rock Claire.”

“Can I take the Impala?” She tries casually, pretending like it’s no big deal.

Dean laughs, “No way in hell. Take Cas’ Lincoln.”

Claire had gotten her license a few weeks ago. Just because Dean taught her to drive on the Impala doesn’t mean he wants her driving around in his baby all the time. Especially since it doesn’t have airbags. It’s for Claire’s safety and baby’s.

Claire looks like she might complain but decides against it and heads to get Cas’ keys.

It’s Dean’s thirtieth birthday. He was awoken to Castiel’s lips trailing downwards at about 5 am, then again at 9 with coffee. They’d had Jack’s shitty pancakes for breakfast. Enough maple syrup can make anything edible.

They’ve got something kinda lowkey planned for the evening, family coming over to have dinner out back. Sam, Jess, and Gabe are staying in an Airbnb somewhere in Lakeview. They’re intending to come over later, but got last minute tickets to a Cubs game for the morning. Dean isn’t upset—he likes the time with just his immediate family anyways.

Since Dean’s favorite food is burgers, and it is Dean’s conjecture that his own burgers are the best that he has ever tasted, Dean is on grill duty for the evening. Meaning he needs burgers for him and Cas, the kids _and_ Sam’s posse. Goddamn.

Cas had promised to get the stuff they need—watermelon and pasta salad and root beer and such. Apparently the ground beef had beef overlooked.

Cas comes down the stairs a little damp from his recent shower. He’s nice and tan, his dark hair a total mess and his biceps pushing at the sleeves of one of Dean’s shirts.

Dean’s tongue darts out to lick at his lips as he raises his eyebrows at Cas.

Cas laughs at him, slapping a hand across Dean’s ass.

Dean yelps, “Hey!”

"You already got some this morning," Cas teases. 

Dean pouts, "That doesn't mean I can't be horny now too. Especially when you look like that."

"Actually, you're thirty now, so it's me you've got to keep up with, old man."

Cas ducks as Dean takes a playful swing at him. 

They end up hustling to have everything ready to go by 7 pm for dinner. Cas blames Dean's "beer breaks" with Sam and Gabe. Dean blames Cas' adamancy that they have an angel food cake that took an hour to whip egg whites for. 

The Winchester family is a happy sight to behold. 

They're using a couple of fold out tables pushed together and lawn chairs. Claire and Cas had gotten bulb lights for the back patio. They cast light with the help of the fire pit that Sam had helped Jack had made a bonfire in. 

The table is mostly scattered with used paper plates and half warm beer bottles now. Sam is telling stories about their recent attempt to surf down by San Diego. Claire is half listening— texting some girl from her phone. Jess has her feet in Gabe’s lap where he is rubbing them gently.

Cas shifts to rest his head in the crook of Dean’s shoulder where they’re sitting practically pressed together. Dean turns and presses a kiss to Cas, smiling into his hair.

“I never gave you your birthday present,” Cas suddenly exclaims, pulling back.

Dean frowns, “You weren’t supposed to get me anything. I thought we agreed not to do gifts for birthdays.”

Cas laughs, “I don’t think you’ll be upset, this is kind of a present for all of us.”

Dean watches as Cas disappears into the house. He listens as the cicadas chirp all around them, the train rumbling by around the corner. The sky is clear, so he can see some light pollution coming up from downtown even though they can’t see the skyline from their patio. He looks around at his little family, chatting happily and wonders how he got so lucky.

Cas comes back out, a little envelope in hand and passes it to Dean.

It’s crisp and white, with Cas’ handwriting scribbled, “Happy Birthday Dean” on the front in one of Jack’s Mr. Sketch smelly markers. The grape one, to be exact.

Dean smiles, confused, and gently thumbs the envelope open.

Inside there are four sheets of paper folded together, each looking almost identical and absolutely covered in words and dates and numbers.

They’re plane tickets. To Italy.

“I sort of talked to Benny to see if it would be possible to get you away for a couple weeks in September… Sorry to go behind your back like that, I wanted it to be a surprise. And if you want to go a different week we can probably exchange the tickets, but I think Claire did find a certain tour that week that she wants to go to, and I know we want to be here for Pride, so I—”

Dean just kisses the words out of Cas’ mouth.

“—I thought we could go back. Together this time,” Cas finishes as he pulls away.

Dean Winchester isn’t a particularly interesting man. He’s not more intelligent than your average person, nor is he well-travelled or exceptionally funny. He can be rude and abrasive, or overly confident. Sometimes he can be irrational.

Dean ends up deciding that in the grand scheme of things, what makes him important is that he knows this. He decides that it’s really okay that he isn’t any of those things.

Dean is lucky enough to feel like loving others comes easy to him. Young and uncertain, he had fallen in love with his parents, his brother, his friends, the city he lived in. Dean loved things for no reason—felt like his chest was getting torn up whenever those things got taken from him.

And Dean didn’t know then, but now that he’s had time to look back, he realizes that the love he was giving did not have any requirements. It was some sort of pure form of love that helped him to get through all of the shit that happened. To love his dad with all of his heart even as his dad fell apart. To love his life with everything, even when he was aware there were better ways to live.

  
Dean will never claim that Sam only loves him out of convivence, or that the people who have shown him kindness did so only for their own gain. But the starkness of how Castiel has loved Dean, and been so vocal about it, had flipped Dean’s life up on end.

Made him think about whether he was comfortable with loving like that— loving completely.

To love without rules is to love with yourself vulnerable.

Whether he is comfortable with it or not, Dean knows this is the kind of love he’s been feeling—the one that Castiel had coined for him, had explained.

It’s the easiest to give unknowingly, and the hardest to come to terms with.

To love unconditionally.

—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Thank you for reading, this seriously took so much sweat and tears. I hope you liked it, that you are doing well. Let me know what you thought.
> 
> P.S. one person says the word and I'll finish the podcast I started of this and post it LOL


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